


A Fine Kettle of Fish

by RueRambunctious



Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer, Elementary (TV), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Deception, Hiding, Lies, Missions Gone Wrong, Multi, Okay a fair bit of smut, Secret Past, ish, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:26:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 29,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8225281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RueRambunctious/pseuds/RueRambunctious
Summary: When you have a lot of big fish swimming around in a little pond it's only natural that they know each other, and perhaps try to devour each other sometimes.When you've worked for two precocious Irish criminal masterminds, one of whom ruined your husband's life, it should be self-evident not to tell John about it.But Mary has just tangled Molly up even worse with four dangerous men, and the way things are going, that number's spitefully going to rise to six. Plus a very dangerous woman.Mary's going to kill an awful lot of people if John divorces her over this mess.





	1. Chapter 1

Mary blinks the first time she sees Jim Moriarty blazed across the news. Stays very careful with her words when John miserably recounts the pain Jim has brought him. Mostly focusing on the death Jim wrought Sherlock, rather than the various direct threats to John himself.

Mary pretends not to know a bloody thing when Jim is supposedly back from the dead, as if he were ever dead in the first place.

Mary phones Juliet as soon as she is able. The blonde has just promised to be truthful with John, and she will be, but this is a bloody mess and she better get her facts in order before confessing what she knows. Differentiating it from what she thinks she knows. She's never really wanted weighed down with too many of the details.

Juliet is somewhere in America, very much enjoying beating people up in public for a lucrative living.

Mary can tell by the slowness of Juliet's Irish voice that Jamie is with her as she takes the call, probably mouthing prompts in the background.

“I need to speak to _both_ of your brothers,” Mary declares pointedly, and puts the phone down before Juliet can pout. 

Although technically, only Jamie is the one with the significant brother. Juliet's brother is _employed_ by the man Mary needs to speak to, but he's a slippery little fish to deal with. Bound to get a more intelligible response from the brawn.

Mary makes her way back home, feeling tense and twitchy. Being watchful used to be an automatic habit for her, almost coming as naturally as breathing, but now it's hard. It's exhausting.

Because she was confident in herself before. If she died, it would be in a blaze of glory, doing something breathtaking.

These days she's more likely to face her end in the form of a vengeful ghost.

But she will damn well meet him head on.

Mary is so preoccupied with adrenaline and righteous wrath, that when she recognises the old car parked outside her _home_ she marches straight up to it. Livid.

She peers upwards for snipers, wondering if the bait is that simple, but no one lands a bullet between her eyes, or anywhere else. Mary heaves a sigh and starts sweeping the car for explosives.

Nothing, still. Surely her old friend would chose more theatrics than this to spook her?

She tries the boot of the car and it pops open easily.

Well. Here are the theatrics she was expecting.

John can't see this.

Mary closes the boot and ignores the way the beseeching eyes within turn indignant.

She gets into the car. It's old. The same make and model as the one used the night she disgraced herself in _his_ eyes. Might even _be_ the same car, knowing his sense of humour. She taps her fingers agitatedly on the dash. Feels like slamming her forehead off of the steering wheel. But that won't get her anywhere.

Right.

Take a deep breath. It's an old car. Easy enough to hot wire.

Mary gets the engine started, shocking her fingers a little, which is what she gets for being so out of practice.

She needs to get this car and its contents out of here.

Where can she go? Who can she _trust_?

Mary does know a woman who won't tell John, even if it's hard.

Mary swallows. She doesn't really have _friends_ anymore, hasn't in years, but if things just progressed normally, as though Mary didn't have a scandalous past, Molly might have become her friend.

Molly certainly _won't_ become Mary's friend after this, but she might just help, and that's what Mary needs right now.

Mary gets the car to St Bart's Hospital, and leaves the boy in the boot whilst she fetches Molly.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly stares at the man in the boot of the car. He's bound in galaxy-printed packing tape, dirty blond hair and piercing eyes the only immediately obvious thing about his appearance. He's dressed in a leather jacket and bloody teeshirt, scuffed army boots on his feet. The proper kind, not the plastic rubbish soldiers get nowadays, that fall apart after two wears.

Mary presses her lips together. She normally seems rather stern and cool to Molly, but Mary's got a slightly pleading look in her eyes now, the collected posture seeming a bit strained.

“You'll help then? Really?”

Molly shrugs, something steely underneath her mousy persona. “Can hardly leave him here,” she responds. Her chin juts, her lips prettily bitten after a moment.

She shakes her head, her long ponytail swinging, and reaches down to peel away some tape.

“Wait until we get him inside; it will draw attention if we start ripping that off here,” Mary protests mildly.

Molly nods, and goes along with it when Mary closes the boot and invites her into the car. Molly gives directions to her home.

Mary finally takes the man out of the boot, and surprises Molly by carrying him determinedly to the front door.

“You're stronger than you look,” Molly mutters.

Mary glances over, surprised, her lips quirking in amusement. “I'm full of surprises.”

Molly smiles, nervous but friendly, and fumbles with her keys. Lets Mary step past with the man.

Mary dumps him unceremoniously on the floor. The blond gasps behind the tape.

Mary glances up at Molly's mildly horrified expression. “Oh don't worry about him, Molly dear, he can take some rough handling.”

“Oh,” Molly mumbles. She crouches to remove the tape over his mouth.

“I'd leave that bit until last if I were you,” Mary offers, closing the door and returning to rip at the pink and purple tape around the man's legs.

The man kicks out at Mary lightly.

She presses her face closer, her forehead level with his. “You want me to bind you back up again?”

He huffs and rolls his eyes.

Mary gives a taunting smile.

Molly carefully eases the ridiculous packing tape from the man's wrists. “Does your friend have a name?”

He takes back his arms and rips off the tape over his mouth, his lips becoming red and swollen. “Severin,” he responds, giving her a look that Molly can't… it makes her brain slow down.

He blinks calmly as though she's not an idiot and rubs at his wrists. Severin ignores Mary ripping at his knees and gives Molly a charming smile. “Your bathroom. Where?”

Molly points slowly and Severin pulls himself to his feet, batting Mary away, and hobbles to the bathroom.

Mary picks up the shredded pieces of tape from the floor, squashing them into a ball. Molly takes it, leading Mary through to the living area and dumping the tape in the bin.

Severin returns, looking calmer. “Been in that car a long time,” he explains, flopping down beside Molly and picking tape from his dark jeans.

“Take off your jacket; you're staying,” Mary states.

Severin glances at her. “Am I now?” Despite the challenge in his voice he shrugs the leather off of his shoulders. Molly takes it from him wordlessly and carries it through to a rack in the hall. The smell of it reaches her nose as she hangs it up. Masculine: aftershave and cigarettes and gun oil and blood.

It bothers her in the wrong way.

She returns and Severin has kicked off his boots, sitting sideways on the couch with his chin resting on his knees. He smiles as Molly enters.

“Do you have a name, boss?” he asks. All smiles, like he doesn't have a burst face. Although damn, those cheekbones.

“Molly,” the brunette replies, hoping she isn't blinking owlishly, which she is known to do when nervous.

“Don't let him walk over you,” Mary warns Molly, giving Severin a stern look. “A slap like you gave our friend with the scarf and Rinn will fall right into line.”

Molly blinks, uncertain how to reply, but Severin rescues her, scoffing, “Talk about me like I'm not here, why don't you?”

Mary narrows her eyes. “You shouldn't be.”

He holds out his hands, giving Mary a look that Molly doesn't understand. Although Mary presses her lips together like she certainly gets it. “And yet here I am,” Severin declares a little brattily.

Molly cuffs his shoulder lightly and sits down beside him, not too close.

He looks over at her immediately, an amused look on his face.

Molly looks away quickly.

Mary gives them both a skeptical look. She smiles at Molly. “Could you make him a tea please? Weak, lots of sugar? Probably help with the shock.”

“Sure,” Molly squeaks, standing at once gratefully. “Do you want one, or do you need to get back to John?”

“I should go soon,” Mary admits, shaking her head.

Molly nods and disappears into the kitchen.

Mary flies over to Severin and snatches the neck of his dirty teeshirt. “You are on your _best behaviour_. You do exactly as she asks you and you don't hurt her.”

“I wouldn't hurt her, Christ,” Severin responds a little crossly.

Mary chews her lip. “Just promise me you'll play nice until I clear this mess up.”


	3. Chapter 3

“So, what's the house rules, Boss?” Severin asks, his eyes twinkling.

Molly regards the stranger slowly. “My first impression of you is you taped up in a trunk. I'm not convinced that you can follow rules.”

Severin laughs at that: a surprised, booming, honest thing.

Molly cannot help but smile awkwardly at his amusement and the approving look Severin gives her. But then she frowns and looks down at her hands, suddenly uncomfortable.

His eyes stay on her. His voice is soft, almost teasing as he offers, “I can be a good boy, I swear.”

Molly snorts at that, because a bad boy in leather that she tore out of packing tape is not the sort to be believed.

His lips twitch at her derision. “Ah. She told you I was naughty, did she?”

“Mary?” Molly responds, rubbing the back of her neck. She's too tired for this. Socialising. She's not prepared. “No; I surmised for myself.”

Severin's still grinning, warm and friendly and teasing as though they're already friends and he hasn't presumably been in a fair bit of trouble earlier. “What gave me away?”

Molly's lips twitch dryly and she reaches over to pull away a bit of star-patterned tape.

“I could be a victim!” Severin protests, bit his voice is high, insincere, and his eyes are dancing.

Molly runs her gaze over his cheeky face, broad shoulders and confident, easy posture. He might have been in a sorry state earlier, but she knows what victims look like, and it isn't him.

“Well aren't you cold?” Severin responds at her skeptical look.

Molly rolls her eyes, getting up to gather the used tea things. “Mary didn't ask us to be friends.”

Severin pouts for a second and huffs, throwing himself back against the arm of the couch. His expression tightens for an instant, his knuckles white, and then he's shifting slightly and smirking teasingly as he complains, “She warned you off me, didn't she?”

Molly gives Severin a calculating look. “Are you hurt?” she asks.

Severin glances away for a second. “Not badly,” he mutters.

“I'll be the judge of that,” Molly declares. “Show me.”

Severin looks awkward, but tries to give her a naughty look. “If you want me to undress you don't need an excuse.”

Molly rolls her eyes, not blushing like she might if he was a nice boy. Severin's the type of boy who would have tormented her during high school, and she is not afraid of him.

“Mary gave me permission to hit you, remember?” Molly says coolly.

“How'm I to know that's not girly code for you like it rough?” Severin mutters, trying to keep his tone teasing, but hiding in his top as he pulls it off as though the words are just a distraction from his body.

Molly purses her lips thoughtfully, drawing her gazing unsympathetically across the bruises. They look dark and painful, but his ribs must be fine because otherwise he couldn't laugh like he does.

Severin shrinks his shoulders, like he's embarrassed it didn't take a proper beating to subdue him. “Like I said, I'm fine.”

“You'll live, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt,” Molly comments, her expression unreadable.

Severin blinks like he doesn't expect sympathy for mere bruises, even if they are mostly purple and black. He's still holding his teeshirt partly over his strong chest, the sleeves sliding down his arms.

“There's muscle soak in the bathroom if you want it,” Molly suggests.

Severin still seems almost shy but he tries to grin charmingly. “Will you join me? Wash my back and kiss me better?”

Molly slaps the side of his head and stands, carrying away the empty cups.

“Well that's not a bedside manner, is it?” Severin responds with feigned indignation, his hand going up to his now red ear.

“Who said I was your nursemaid not your warden?” Molly mutters.

Severin gets up and follows, although the kitchen can be seen easily enough from the sitting room.

Molly gives him a mildly exasperated look. “I don't need supervision; go sit.”

“I'll wash up,” Severin offers, eyes wide like a little boy trying to win brownie points.

“You're domesticated?” Molly asks despite herself.

“Fully,” Severin says without irony. “I put the toilet seat back down and everything.”

Molly laughs then, and she is unsure why. But it seems to please her house guest.

“I have a dish washer,” she tells him.

He leans his elbows on the counter. “I can put some cups on a rack; I promise I'm clever enough.”

Molly almost retorts jokingly, but then her eyes catch sight of his skin, a slice showing where his dark jeans have dipped down and his teeshirt hasn't been yanked down fully.

Severin can tell in an instant it's not an admiring look. He pulls at the hem of his top swiftly. “Sorry, I know it's… ugly.”

Molly's voice is mild and assertive all at once. “I'm not squeamish, I deal with dead people for a living.” 

Severin's eyes linger on Molly. “Oh. I thought she was out of the business. I didn't realise you worked together.” 

“Mary? Um, friends of friends actually,” Molly mumbles, pulling open the dishwasher before she admits or learns anything that Mary might want kept private.


	4. Chapter 4

Juliet stretches out in the studio, looking vaguely sleepy and stiff.

“I'd ask if they were working you too hard, but you are probably the one at fault, aren't you, dear?”

Juliet grins and glances around at the American accent, still rolling her shoulders. “Oh, good, you're here: come help me.”

Jamie smirks and steps forwards, her hands already outstretched for Juliet's form.

“I need to stay in shape,” Juliet explains. “School term will start soon enough.”

Jamie rolls her eyes. “I don't understand why you would deign to work with _children_.”

“You worked with their big brother, didn't you?” Juliet responds, sighing as Jamie squeezes the skin between neck and shoulders.

“He was a teenager at the time and highly intelligent by adult standards,” Jamie murmurs, mostly focused on the knots in Juliet's muscles.

“So are they,” Juliet grins. 

Jamie rolls her eyes, shoving her friend towards the couch. Juliet's smile widens gratefully and she flops onto her belly as Jamie swings a strong leg either side of her.

Those harsh hands feel glorious in Juliet's aching skin.

“I still think you should drop both and work for me,” Jamie smiles.

Juliet groans a little. “Family loyalty. Need to wait until the twins have someone trained to Butler standards.”

“You'll be dead by then,” Jamie mocks.

Juliet rolls her eyes. “If I have to wait on my brother procreating then yes.”

Jamie sniggers. “You see? You should run away with me whilst you're still young enough to enjoy it.”

Juliet snorts. “And you would tell me off for being too 'hands on' and then where would our friendship be?”

“Oh, as if you can't take orders. I've seen you sit for make-up, Jade Princess.”

“That's dif-fer-ent,” Juliet sing-songs. It's hard to argue when the blonde has her in such a puddle of contentment. “Stick your elbows in a bit, will you?”

“This hard?” Jamie asks.

“Harder,” Juliet responds.

Jamie digs down until Juliet moans in relief. Jamie smirks. “Better?”

“Much,” Juliet whispers. “Don't stop.”

“Fine, but you need to keep me entertained,” Jamie responds.

“Sure,” Juliet agrees easily, closing her eyes. “Tell you anything.”

Jamie considers. “How's that little darling your agent represents?”

Juliet smirks. “Oh, he's adorable, isn't he?” she responds as though he's not probably a decade her senior. “Doing well, apparently. But you know that you could ask him directly.”

Jamie applies further pressure under Juliet's shoulder blades and waits for the younger woman's loud, appreciative response to end before replying, “I could, but then he'd think I was fussing, and my brother would know I was keeping tabs instead of being productive.”

Juliet grins. “I find this _very_ productive.”

Jamie kneads into her ribs and spine. “I thought you would. Are you sure you don't want handled like this every day?”

“Jamie, I don't take bribes,” Juliet smiles, her eyes still closed.

“And that's what's wrong with you,” Jamie asserts cheerfully.

“No; what's wrong with me is that you're not on hand as my entourage for this whole tour,” Juliet grumbles.

“If you worked for me I'd do this every day _and_ I'd pay Irene to work out your worst knots,” Jamie purrs.

Juliet laughs. “Give up, mate. And _don't stop_.”


	5. Chapter 5

“You phoned my sister.”

Mary swallows, her stomach tightening unpleasantly at the familiar voice on the line. It doesn't really matter that technically his sister was only in the room. “We needed to talk. Was bringing Moran into this really necessary?”

“You were the one to do that, if memory serves correctly,” he replies coolly.

“I am _so_ far from happy with this situation,” Mary snaps.

“AND YOU THINK I AM?” Jim roars.

“Is that volume necessary?” Mary sighs, holding the phone away from her ear.

“Do you really think you're in a position to talk to me like that?” he asks in a low growl.

Mary is silent for a beat. She feels nauseous. She listens to his breathing as he waits for a response. “I'm doing the best I can; you're the one with all the cards.”

A sharp intake of breath. “ _I always was the one with all the cards._ ”

“Then why were you so surprised about what happened?” Mary retorts.

“You always were a reckless girl,” Jim spits, angered by her tone.

“You used to approve,” Mary drawls.

“I also _used_ to trust you… in your competence,” Jim snarls.

“And that was entirely my error?” Mary questions coolly. 

Jim chuckles derisively. “New husband can't keep you in check, can he? Barely knows what you _are_.”

“What I _am_ ,” Mary growls, “is _out of the damn business_ and I want to keep it that way.”

“Bad little girls don't get what they want, 'Mary.'”

Mary sighs. “It might have escaped your notice, but I'm not a kid anymore. I'm a full grown woman.”

“Oh and let me guess; you're not afraid of me anymore?” Jim scoffs darkly.

“Oh, sweetie, I will _always_ be afraid of you,” Mary responds icily.

“And yet you provoke me anyway?”

“You could have killed my husband.”

“You weren't married yet. You weren't even dating yet,” Jim retorts.

“Of course you were keeping tabs on me,” Mary sighs.

“Yes, of course I did. There's not many people allowed to toddle off alive with the things you know.”

“Is that what this is about? John and Sherlock? Because what I wouldn't spill during torture I'm hardly likely to divulge to-”

“To your friend? To your husband's best man _who can read people_?”

Mary makes a derisive noise. “Took him long enough to even notice what I am. I shot him, didn't I?”

“Yet let him live. Although I'd have been rather cross with you if you'd killed my favourite toy.”

Mary snorts. “Poor Sebastian.”

Silence on the other end of the line. Anger. Mary's pulse races. She shouldn't have said that.

“Don't fuck things up,” Jim says at last, harshly, and then he hangs up.

Mary hadn't even said what she meant to. Impossible. All these years later and he was still impossible in his entirety.

Jim's hands are shaking and he throws the phone across the room, waiting for the satisfying crunch of it smashing against something.

The noise doesn't come. 

Jim looks around in annoyance and vague confusion.

Oh. Of course.

Sebastian stands with his fist in the air, phone in hand. He lowers it, meeting Jim's eyes, and shoves the offending item into his pocket.

“Don't,” Jim states through gritted teeth.

“Jim.”

“Not now, Tiger, Daddy's stressed.”

Sebastian takes a brave step closer anyway. “ _Daddy_ can stop thinking about that… about her… for ten damn minutes because your _Tiger_ is pissed.”

Jim glances up, his expression mocking although Sebastian knows the slighter man well enough to recognise that twitch of his jaw like Jim wants to bite his lip. “My Tiger,” Jim says dismissively. “I own you. You don't get a say.”

Sebastian's eyes flash warningly. “One more word, I dare you.”

Jim glares. “Really, Moran?”


	6. Chapter 6

Molly gives an exasperated sigh. “Severin.”

Severin pouts. “Oh, don't say my name like that,” he protests.

She arches a brow at him. “Like you're being a child? Then change your behaviour.”

Severin wrinkles his forehead. “Who spit in your coffee?” he asks petulantly. 

Molly glowers and indicates the hot water bottle she has filled for him. He has been clutching it dearly, like a suffering teenage girl, but it's barely eased the tension in his jaw. She states, “It's not working.”

Severin grips it protectively. “It's working fine.”

“Why would you even lie?” Molly asks.

Severin stiffens his thick lips. “I'm fine.”

“I don't appreciate being lied to in my own home, you know,” Molly says archly.

Severin glances away like he's been scolded.

Molly frowns. He's not putting it on. Genuinely doesn't like being told off by the soft look on his face.

Although maybe his day was more traumatic than he's letting on.

“You need some painkillers and a hot bath,” Molly assesses.

Severin's face twitches. “That a proposition, Boss?” he teases softly.

“Enough,” Molly warns sternly. “You're sleeping on this couch tonight.”

“You gonna keep me warm?” Severin asks cheekily.

Molly sneers, knowing that will sting worse than another slap upside the head. “You don't look in the best condition for that.”

The smile disappears from Severin's face.

Molly ignores the guilty feeling that creates. She gets up and finds painkillers, not entirely minding when Severin follows her like a loyal puppy.

“Relax, will you?” Molly says, finding it farcical that she is the one telling someone else to do so. Nervy little Molly.

“I'm totally relaxed,” Severin responds, but he quickly glances away when Molly gives him a glare for the lie.

She hands him the tablets. He brushes his fingers against her own, not flirtatiously, just comfortably, like he trusts her, and it raises the fine hairs on the back of Molly's pale neck.

“Thank you,” he says, like he was raised with manners despite his appearance.

Severin swallows the medicine with water then steps around Molly to rinse out the glass and place it neatly on the drainer.

She touches his arm lightly. “Bath,” she says firmly.

“You say that like I'm dirty,” Severin jokes mildly.

Molly tugs on his bloodied teeshirt. “Funny that.”

Severin's cheeks turn a pretty shade of pale pink and Molly marvels at it. It's new to be on this side of an embarrassing interaction.

“I've probably still got one of my ex's teeshirts upstairs if you want something clean,” Molly offers.

“That mean you're single?” Severin asks.

“That means mind your own business,” Molly retorts with a roll of her eyes.

“That sounds like a maybe,” Severin smiles.

“I'm going to drown you in the bath,” Molly says disgustedly.

He chuckles softly, following behind her obediently to the bathroom. Molly pulls out a clean towel, setting it in Severin's arms, and throws the stopper in the bath, turning on the taps and sloshing in a generous amount of muscle soak and soothing essential oil.

His lips twitch, but the scent alone seems to have eased the tightness in his shoulders.

“I'll leave the teeshirt outside the door. Let me know if you need anything else,” Molly says, stepping around the blond.

“Are you sure you don't want to stay?” Severin asks with a grin. “Make sure I don't faint from the steam?”

“You're wasting your time,” Molly responds.

“You don't even have to climb in with me,” Severin says. “We could put in bubbles so it's perfectly decent and you could make sure I find all those hard to reach bits.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Molly scoffs.

He grins playfully. “Made you smile though didn't it?”

“You're a moron,” Molly says.

“A Moran actually,” Severin states, “but I do prefer to be on a first name basis.”

Molly takes a few steps away but then leans against the doorframe. “I liked you better with tape over your lips.”

Severin winks. “Whatever you're into, milady.”

Molly chuckles. “Do you annoy everyone you meet?”

“Only the lucky ones,” Severin responds with a warm smile, dipping to adjust the taps.

Molly rolls her eyes and straightens. “I'll go get you that top.”

“I could go without it if you prefer,” Severin purrs.

Molly tilts her chin. “You seemed shy enough earlier.”

Severin's smile shrinks a few molars. He swallows.

Molly sighs. “You're not ugly, if that's what you're waiting to hear,” she says drolly, stepping away to get that shirt. Tom was tall, not broad, but it should do for a night.

“Did you just call me handsome?” Severin calls cheerfully after her.

“Pretty!” she retorts derisively.

“I'll take that!”

Molly smiles despite herself. Idiot.

She roots out the teeshirt feeling much less of an emotional twinge than she probably ought to, and by a stroke of luck finds some men's pajama bottoms as well. Not Tom's.

Molly carries her finds downstairs and knocks on the bathroom door.

“Come in,” Severin calls playfully.

“Clothes are outside the door,” Molly responds, not rising to the bait.

She goes and looks out a blanket for the couch.

Severin slides down, surprised to find the bath really does work a little better than the hot water bottle. He can't remember the last time he was so coddled over a few bruises and cuts.

Molly gives him privacy, and Severin stays in the water until it starts to grow uncomfortably cold. 

Severin wraps himself in the towel warmed by the radiator, and smiles to see Molly has had the same idea, leaving him a teeshirt and bottoms on the radiator in the hall.

He likes her. She seems kind, but not too marshmallowy. Less grumpy than 'Mary' as well.

Severin empties and rinses out the bath, returning the towel neatly, and pads back through to the living area in his borrowed clothes, his bloodied, tape-sticky ones under his arm.

Molly looks up with a smile, like perhaps she doesn't find him utterly exasperating.

“Thank you,” Severin says.

She blinks. “Feel better?”

He nods. Thanks her again.

“Do you want to watch a movie and order in food?” Molly suggests.

“That sounds… Yeah. I'd like that,” Severin accepts.

Molly holds out a remote with a prominent Netflix button to him and Severin takes it, sitting and pulling the folded duvet over their laps. Molly blinks for a moment at it but then gets comfortable.

“What do you feel like eating?” she asks.

“Anything,” Severin says.

She gives him a calculating look. “Comfort food?”

Severin lifts his chin. “What were you thinking?”

“The Italian place does a passable lasagne,” Molly suggests.

Severin swallows. “Marry me,” he mutters. He turns and meets Molly's eyes. “Great idea.”

She rolls her eyes but pulls out her phone. Calls in the order like it's not weird to be ordering for two again.

Severin wriggles down under the covers, but freezes as he brushes Molly's thigh. “Sor-”

Molly lifts his ankles and pulls them over her lap. “Better?”

He stares at her. Nods.

“Pick a film,” Molly says to break the awkwardness.


	7. Chapter 7

Butler drew himself up to his considerable height of over six and a half feet, knowing it would have no bearing whatsoever on his principal, and reluctantly opened, “We need to talk, Artemis.”

Artemis freezes, glancing up from over his laptop. He has the grace to look guilty. “Oh?”

“You know precisely what I am referring to, Artemis,” Butler states.

Artemis swallows. “I must be getting predictable if that is the only issue that calls for your attention.”

Joking. Artemis must know things are bad. Although when does he ever not know something? Butler stares and waits for his disapproval to loosen his principal's tongue further.

“...I concede that it is not ideal,” Artemis admits at last.

“And?” Butler prompts.

“And that I brought this upon us myself and that others have suffered for it,” Artemis responds tersely.

Butler raises a brow. “Ignoring that pattern, what do you intend to do about it this time?”

Artemis seems tired. “I'm weighing the options.”

“And?”

“And… I'm still evaluating.”

Butler responds, “Think tactically: Juliet's intel suggests it is only a matter of time before Jamie's brother realises your involvement in what was a considerable loss for him. We need to formulate a plan now and proceed with it swiftly.” 

“We've faced worse foes than him,” Artemis responds dully.

Butler's eyes narrow. “Don't you think a time will come when our luck will run out?”

Artemis flips the laptop closed. “More than luck, Butler. Your talents and my intellect...”

“We all appreciate your genius, Artemis,” Butler retorts, “but don't you think that antagonising our old coworker is a bit like walking into the killbox?” 

Artemis touches the tip of each finger against his thumb, one of his focusing exercises. Butler waits for him to speak.

“I know that you might be right. I was a child when I got us caught up on this. I...” Artemis is uncharacteristically lost for words. He rubs his face. “Foolish as it is, I am hoping we will not have to face this problem for a while longer.”

Butler sighs. “He's not going to wait for you to get into the necessary mindset, Arty. He hasn't been waiting around whilst you decided to change career paths.”

“It hardly takes a genius to work that out,” Artemis grumbles. “I've seen the news. And he has his fingers on most of my networks.”

Butler shifts his weight uneasily. “I've heard things, Artemis. It's not simply a case of him having an entire criminal empire at his disposal. He's… not your typical bad guy.”

Artemis' lips twitch, but the expression is a little bitter. “Neither was Opal. Or most of the others.”

“But Opal's not you.”

Artemis presses his lips together in a thin, bloodless line, then tries to smooth his expression. “And you're saying that _he_ is?”

Butler has no idea how to say it kindly, so he just blurts out the truth as he sees it. “He's what your future might have looked like if we had never become entangled with the fairy folk. Except he is violent, and deranged, and deadly.”

“And recently risen from the dead. Shame I can't learn that trick from him.”

Butler cannot help but say, “I think this family has cheated death enough not to tempt fate with parlour tricks.”

Artemis is quiet as though he concedes. “You would think after his triumphant return and having a global network to oversee he wouldn't be interested in what happened years ago.”

“Would you have done? Before Holly?” Butler asks.

Artemis looks grey. “I would have destroyed us. And I don't even have his taste for sadistic deaths.”

“Wonderful.”

“It's not like he killed any of his own that night though,” Artemis says as though trying to find favour in his own mind. “She phoned Juliet after all.”

“Are we going to call her back?” Butler asks.

Artemis pinches the base of his nose. “I… don't know.”

Butler sighs, finally taking pity on the young man. The bodyguard pulls out his phone and opens their synced calendar. “I've scheduled this conversation for later,” he warns.

Artemis nods. “Thanks,” he says softly.

After a while he opens the laptop back up and concentrates intently on the windows he switches between. The glare of the screen bounces off his mismatched eyes and pale skin, casting twisted shadows as footage plays.


	8. Chapter 8

Severin falls asleep on the couch against Molly, his considerable bulk limp in sleep. He's too heavy to be...pliable, exactly, but Molly manages to ease him back into an upright position.

If she is honest with herself she doesn't dislike being crushed by his weight. His sore face was pressed against her shoulder, and it's the desire to avoid his further suffering that caused Molly to move.

His eyelids flutter drowsily and he makes a very small questioning squeak for such a well-built man.

“Shh,” Molly soothes. She extracts herself from the blanket with effort and drags herself to her feet, doing her best not to let Severin drop heavily as she moves in front of him. He hardly seems to notice her hands on his shoulders.

Molly lowers him carefully to a reclining position and wraps the warm blanket around Severin. He gives a barely-conscious purr of question.

“Time for sleep,” Molly tells the blond mildly.

His fingers flail out in some sort of acknowledgement. Molly tells herself it was an approximation of a wave and not his hand seeking her own.

Molly steps back and spares a glance at the clock, discovering it isn't so very late. Severin's day has likely exhausted him.

She should give him peace to sleep. Molly picks up her phone and heads upstairs.

There is a man in her home. A man with a cut face and black bruises and scarred knuckles and the sort of lifestyle that makes him concerningly accepting about spending time in the trunk of an old car.

There's a man sleeping on her couch who gave her an approving, odd look when she derided the inaccuracy of arterial trajectories and blood spatter formations during the movie. A man who moved his feet from her lap so he could slide close enough to fall asleep on top of her later. A man she permitted within her personal space because they were so locked in conversation.

Molly tells herself it would be melodramatic to bash her head off of the wall. It wouldn't knock any sense in, and it might wake her guest.

Who is certainly a criminal.

Molly sighs and picks up her phone. Mary's unexpected call is the last contact Molly has made from it today.

It would be helpful if Molly actually knew what Mary had involved her in.

Molly has never seen Mary so white-faced and strained. It worries the brunette.

Molly bites her lip and creates a text. 'We should talk. Come tomorrow if convenient.' Molly considers, then uncomfortably adds, 'If not, come anyway.' 

Don't overthink. _Send_.

Molly turns the phone over in her hands a few times, not really expecting an immediate reply. She almost drops the phone when it buzzes.

'Yes.'

Molly can picture Mary's white knuckles without closing her eyes.

 

Molly wakes to the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She freezes, then remembers Severin is downstairs.

Only, not downstairs. On the stairs. What is he coming upstairs for?

Molly swings her feet over the side of the bed quickly. Why is the bruised criminal _coming upstairs_?

The brunette swallows and looks towards her bedroom door, flinching as Severin knocks softly on the doorframe.

“Boss?” he says softly. “You awake?”

Molly walks towards the door, her insides twisting.

Pushing down on the handle and pulling, she is stunned to see Severin standing holding a tray.

A tray with breakfast. He has made her breakfast.

Molly blinks at it. At him.

Severin pushes out the tray for her to take, brows raised mildly. Molly accepts the offering. 

The blond gives her a soft nod and takes a step back, turning to retreat downstairs.

“Nothing clever to say this morning?” Molly asks. Steam from her teacup heats her cheeks.

Severin's lips twitch hopefully. “Doesn't seem gentlemanly to torment a lady until she's been fed and caffeinated.”

Molly grins. “I'm not sitting upstairs alone to eat like a princess in a tower.”

“Are you asking me to join you?” Severin questions.

Molly rolls her eyes. “I'll join _you_.”

“I reckon the bed would be more comfortable,” Severin grumbles mildly, but he quickly starts descending the carpeted stairs.

“Just because my hands are full doesn't mean I can't kick you,” Molly warns.

“You wouldn't d-”

Severin exclaims as Molly kicks him gently down the last step. He whirls around with a shocked expression. “You kicked me! Down a… I don't believe it.”

“Don't tell me what I will or won't do,” Molly says sweetly, stepping aside him into the living area.

“You're _mean_ ,” Severin blusters, amused despite himself. 

“The sooner you join me the sooner I'll eat, and the better your chances of survival,” Molly calls through the open doorway cheerfully.

Severin snorts. He follows after and lifts toast from his own plate. He's cut hers into triangles but hasn't bothered with his own. “Then you best eat, you bully.”

Molly grins, lifting her cup and curling up on the couch. He's already folded up the blanket neatly.

Severin joins her with his own breakfast. “Good morning, by the way.”

“Going well so far,” Molly says comfortably over the rim of her drink.

“For you maybe; I've had a near death experience and it's barely even light out,” Severin jokes.

“I'm sure there will be many more to come,” Molly says in faux solemness, sensing he won't mind the jibe despite his circumstances yesterday.

“Your sympathy touches me to my caramel core,” Severin says with a roll of his eyes. He bites at his toast.

“You can tell Mary on me later if it makes you feel better,” Molly responds. She takes a bite, swallows, and then adds, “Not that I imagine you'll get sympathy from her either.”

Severin stiffens a little. “She's coming back today?”

“Relax, I'm not kicking you out,” Molly tells her toast.

Severin raises his brows cheerfully. “Oh really?”

Molly kicks his thigh with her bare foot. “Behave yourself. You will have chores. Like making breakfast.”

Severin grins. “I can do chores, Boss.” He glances at his warm thigh, which seems to have attracted both of her pale feet. He doesn't comment.

Molly sips calmly at her tea.

Severin waits until she puts it safely on the table then tickles the underside of a foot playfully, anticipating the endearing squeal, but being totally surprised by the foot which connects with his jaw.

Molly sits up quickly, her hands flying towards his face in worry. “Oh gosh, sorry, are you okay? That was automatic...”

Severin rubs the blooming ache and feels considerably mollified as her palms gently enclose his face so she can better look at the fresh, red mark.

“You're vicious,” he teases mildly.

Molly's lips twitch but she looks guilty. “Don't you forget it. Does it hurt?”

“A little,” Severin admits. His lips quirk, catching Molly's attention in their close proximity, as he suggests, “You could always kiss me better.”

Molly is still, his cheeks warm in her hands and her gaze on his mouth.

Severin's eyes widen at the attention.

It breaks the spell and Molly drops her hands, leaning back quickly.

“Got my hopes up there,” Severin jokes weakly. He lips his lips nervously.

“You.. You'd need to do more to earn a kiss from me than take a kick to the face,” Molly says without squeaking.

“That a challenge?” Severin asks a little shakily. He's looking at her like… Like he's sorely disappointed.

Molly feels a strange pull in her naval. She leans up, telling herself that she's just going to brush her lips over his mistreated jaw, but then her mouth is over Severin's and his eyes are wide and he's parting his lips and… she's kissing him quite forcefully.

Severin moans appreciatively into the contact and he puts a little pressure on Molly's lower back, encouraging her onto his lap. She complies easily, one hand moving around to twist her fingers in his cropped blond hair.

Severin trails his fingers delicately down Molly's back, making her shiver and buck closer into his lips at the unfamiliar, tingling touch. She can feel his grin in response, and when they pull apart the blond avoids her gaze in favour of pressing soft kisses down her neck and shoulder, which her pajama top is now slipping off of.

Molly licks her lips, wondering whether to feel dazed, ashamed or proud of her daring.

Severin lifts his eyes warily, as though half-expecting a rebuke. “I think I could get used to you kicking me,” he says.

Molly sniggers. Severin's lips widen happily at the response and he dips his face again, nipping her skin ever so lightly with his teeth.

Molly's eyes flutter closed and his hands continue to trace swirling, light patterns over her top. Those large, strong hands have surely been used for much less delicate actions and Molly wonders at his controlled gentleness.

“You're still sleeping on the couch tonight,” Molly tells him.

Severin's lips quirk and he raises his sparkling eyes for a moment to meet hers. “I can wait.”

Molly takes her thumb and pushes his forehead back with it. “And wait you will. We should be getting ready if Mary's coming over.”

Severin waggles his eyebrows although he know it will invite a smack. “Together?”

“Do you want to fall down the stairs, pretty boy? Because that can be arranged,” Molly scoffs, then extracts herself before he can see her blush. “I'm going for a shower. You can have the bath.”

Severin gives her a confused look. “Why do you have two baths and one bedroom?” 

Molly shrugs. “Sometimes I'm too tired to climb the stairs.” 

Severin tilts his head questioningly. Like a puppy.

“I work long hours and don't get much opportunity to spend what I earn,” Molly explains. “Figured I might as buy something useful.”

“I could carry you to bed,” Severin teases.

“Sit; stay,” Molly responds, her lips curling upwards as Severin snickers fondly behind her.

Severin watches her retreat, feeling a warmth in his chest that he is certain Mary's likely to beat him over the head for.

Mary is indeed suspicious of Severin's manner with her Molly. She halts him as he tries to go with the brunette to make tea upon Mary's arrival.

“Stop following Molly like a lost lamb,” Mary scolds. Leaning closer, she adds, “If ...your employer… wanted to hurt you further he already would have, and he's got no reason to hurt Molly.” 

He swallows. “She's harbouring me,” Severin says uncomfortably. 

Mary shakes her head. “His partner's brother? You're not dead for a reason, Rinn.” 

Severin chews his lip uncertainly, his arms curling protectively over his bruises as he glances towards Molly in the kitchen. He asks, “You think?” 

Mary wrinkles her nose. “Well you're a little old for a time out, aren't you?”


	9. Chapter 9

Jamie crosses her legs and examines her nails, finding it a little preposterous that her clever brother's posturing has placed her across a desk from him in a dubious office space.

She flicks her gaze to the side, where a dark-haired Irish teenager sits relaxed in the presence of his enormous bodyguard. Juliet was right about her brother's ability to command attention, but she had also warned that it was the boy who deserved it, if you wanted to survive.

Some sort of twisted genius apparently.

Jamie can see that glint of hyperintelligence and criminality in the boy's blue eyes, but it's a far cry from the deadly promise her brother's held at that age.

The tender age of fourteen. Jamie would feel ridiculous holding a meeting with a child, were it not for her memories of just what Jim had achieved at that age.

Jim is not gazing at any of his guests. Instead he is looking over steepled fingers with a darkly amused expression at his own bodyguard. Sebastian is used to being the largest, deadliest man in any room, and the possibility that the _kid's_ bodyguard could probably pull Sebastian over his knees if he so chose is doing nothing to appease the blond's mood.

Jim drops his hands with a smirk and finally looks at the others. “Can I surmise that Miss Butler informed you that I would like to employ your talents, Master Fowl?”

Jamie leans back, her elbows turning pink against the arms of the chair, and spares Artemis and (Mister) Butler another interested look.

“I have numerous talents, Mister Moriarty, you will need to be more specific,” Artemis responds, sounding bored.

Jim is unusually patient, and it has nothing to do with Butler's extensive martial arts training. “I am talking about commissioning a painting from you, Fowl.”

Artemis bares his teeth. “A fake, I presume.”

Jim nods. “A fake from yourself, and from you, Jamie, both slightly different, to be interchanged throughout a period of time.”

Artemis doesn't question that. Instead he asks, “What's the painting?”

“A Herve. The sixth fairy.”

Artemis smirks lazily. “You heard about the sixteenth, I presume.”

“Is that a yes?” Jim asks.

The vampire-like teen's blue eyes glitter in an almost ominous taunt. “You realise the painting you wish to switch out from the Moran manor is already a fake?”

Sebastian lets out a bark of laughter.

Jim's own dark eyes twinkle in amusement. “That is quite alright. We're playing a game.”

Artemis raises a brow. “With your bodyguard's family?”

Jim rolls his eyes. “We can't all have doting parents, Master Fowl.”

“Or rich ones,” Jamie mutters.

Jim fixes her with a grin. “Oh dear,” he says in faux sympathy, “does Daddy not pay you enough?”

Jamie gives him a glare then rolls her eyes. “Don't make me say things you might regret in front of an impressionable youth.”

Jim flicks his gaze towards Artemis. “Did Fowl Senior let you hear things unbecoming for an 'impressionable youth' before he came back from Russia a changed man?”

“Stop wasting my time,” Artemis glowers. “What are the differences you need between my painting and your sister's?”

“Anything you like, but not so subtle that an inbred idiot won't notice,” Jim replies. Sebastian swallows and his master grins.

“And what are you offering for my service?” Artemis asks coolly.

Jim scribbles down a number and pushes it towards the teen.

Artemis examines it then glances up with a smooth forehead. “You are not even going to try to barter?”

Jim chuckles shortly and shakes his head. “I know a likeminded individual when I see one. I see no reason to _waste your time_.”

Artemis sneers. “Quite. When do you need the painting by?”

“September first?” Jim suggests.

Artemis rolls his eyes. “How clever. Shall that be all?”

Jim spreads his palms. “Thank you for your time Master Fowl. Mister Butler.”

Sebastian narrows his eyes as Artemis Fowl II leaves with Juliet's ginormous brother. “I hope you're sure about this. He looks like he needs a lollipop and a bedtime story.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “He's smarter than you realise, and if I was to compare your intellects I'm afraid you would be the one most deserving of a bedtime story, Sebastian.”

Jamie stands. “If that will be all, I'm leaving before you start rolling out the Daddy talk again.”

Jim merely snickers, whilst Sebastian's face flames.

Jamie pauses and snatches up the piece of paper. “I hope that's what you're paying me, little brother.”

Jim's eyes dance. “You work on family rates.”

“Good luck getting a kidney from me if you need it,” Jamie scoffs.

Jim rolls his eyes. “What do you think I keep our baby brother alive for?”

Jamie leans over the desk and Sebastian does not intervene when she cuffs Jim across the ear.


	10. Chapter 10

Jim sits on the couch in one of his penthouse apartments, legs crossed and fingers typing away at a furious speed on his laptop. He's answering emails, and by doing so controlling his global criminal empire, which in turn means spinning his web across Earth's population.

He does not expect to be disturbed, although Sebastian should be home soon if the blond bodyguard knows what's good for him. Jim loathes tardiness, because when Sebastian does not adhere to schedule it gives the criminal mastermind cause to worry.

Not that he words that often.

However, when Sebastian appears he closes the door behind himself with more force than necessary and drops down his bag. Jim's fluttering fingers slow. Sebastian knows damn well that Jim does not tolerate untidiness in his partner much less anyone else, and he's not too happy about the noise either.

Sebastian shrugs out of his layers, having spent hours on some damned rooftop, and dumps them on a hook.

He treads through from the landing, leaving his bag of equipment which should be cleaned and put away.

Sebastian comes and stands before Jim, which is in itself unusual, and Jim wonders whether to scold or ask whether the blond has had a bad day.

Sebastian forces down the lid of Jim's laptop with a snap. Jim snatches his fingers back in time and he raises his head, a mixture of fury and astonishment on his face.

“What the _hell_ , Sebastian?” Jim snarls angrily.

Sebastian's gaze is uncharacteristically devoid of its healthy dose of wariness. Jim feels a thrill of uneasiness as the much larger man pins him with a cold, stern look. 

“We need to talk,” Sebastian declares. 

Jim swallows. “Have you forgotten who makes the decisions here, pet?”

Sebastian controls the urge to snatch Jim's laptop and throw it at a wall. Instead he pulls it from Jim's lap and drops it without quite enough care on a nearby surface. It clatters, but does not break.

Jim's jaw and fists clench. “Seb-ast-ian,” he growls.

Sebastian reaches out and seizes the collar of Jim's soft, expensive teeshirt, stretching it out irreparably as he pulls it closer. “Jim,” he replies challengingly.

He can see the heightened pulse twitching under the skin of the brunet's neck and see the danger in Jim's eyes.

“You have _five seconds_ to let go of me, Tiger, and you might not lose that hand,” Jim spits.

Sebastian shakes his head coolly. “No, love. I've had _more_ than enough of your games now. So you're going to talk to me, like you should've fucking done in the first place, or you're the one who's going to lose something.”

Jim bristles perilously at the threat, but he can't quite bring the indignant rage to his face. Something cold spreads through his chest as he surmises Sebastian doesn't mean body parts.

“There's my clever boy,” Sebastian comments.

Jim grits his teeth.

“What the fuck have you done with my brother?” Sebastian demands.

Something flicks across Jim's face. “He's fine, Sebastian.” 

Sebastian darts menacingly close. “He fucking better be, because if he's not breathing, James, we are over. Completely fucking done. You hear me?”

Jim swallows. “I wouldn't-”

“Then. Where. The fuck. Is he?” Sebastian bellows.

Jim pushes a little at Sebastian's wrist. “Severin's fine.”

Sebastian lets go but crosses his muscular arms. “He is not fine.”

Jim drops his frowning gaze to the creased fabric behind his knee. “He's barely hurt.”

Sebastian's hand goes to Jim's throat. “That's my baby fucking brother!”

Jim stretches upwards uncomfortably. “Which is why he's not dead. I still need to punish him when he fucks up, Bastian.”

“No,” Sebastian says, shaking his head and squeezing a little tighter, “when he fucks up, that's on me. You don't touch him. _You come to me_.”

Jim pants. “That… wouldn't… have...”

“YOU DON'T PLAY GAMES USING MY KID BROTHER, GOT IT?”

Sebastian's grip is tight enough that Jim can no longer breathe, but he trusts Sebastian will let him go before he suffocates, and the angry blond does so. Jim reaches up and rubs at his throat with a baleful expression, trying to take steady breaths instead of gasping in air like a bitch.

Sebastian snatches Jim's dark hair. “Got it?”

Jim frowns and swallows crossly. It's painful. “I… told you: he's fine...”

“Fucking better be,” Sebastian responds frostily, not remotely guilty about the vivid marks on his lover's neck.

Jim reaches up a hand to Sebastian's torso. “I swear,” the brunet says in a clipped voice, embarrassed by the sincerity but raising his eyes honestly to Sebastian's after a beat all the same.

Sebastian swallows, not moving Jim's hand, or his own. “He's the only thing of mine's that's off limits. You know that.”

Jim gives a minute nod. “I know,” he says mildly.

“He's alright?” Sebastian queries gruffly.

“He's fine,” Jim confirms.

“Don't ever do this again,” Sebastian warns.

Jim hesitates.

Sebastian slams the small frame hard against the back of the couch, knocking the air from Jim's lungs. “Don't. Ever. Do. It. Again.”

Jim gasps for air, slapping at Sebastian's wrist and then nodding.

Sebastian squeezes just a little harder, making his point, then withdraws.

Jim flies forwards, drinking in air desperately.

Sebastian smirks a little, softly. “You're cute like that,” he growls, amused by how his words make Jim glare hatefully.

Sebastian turns away, intent on tidying away his kit before Jim chooses to set it on fire.

“Wait,” Jim blurts.

Sebastian turns around.

Jim gives the blond a heated look, leading Sebastian's gaze down to the soft, worn pajama bottoms Jim only allows himself to wear when he's feeling stressed or vulnerable. Well he ought to feel fucking guilty. Although that's not what Jim's trying to show.

Sebastian raises a brow. “Does my Kitten like it when I remind him how small and helpless he is?”

Jim purses his mouth, gaze mildly resentful, then reluctantly bites his lip. He nods, eyes burning crossly.

Sebastian's expression softens a little and he steps closer. Bending forwards, he slaps Jim's cheek mockingly.

Jim's eyes flash, but he makes no move to retaliate. His insides twist in reluctant pleasure.

Sebastian spreads out a wicked smile and purrs, “You're sleeping on the couch until my brother's home safe and well.” 

Jim's expression drops. “...What?” 

Sebastian gives his errant Kitten a disparaging look and walks away. “You heard me love.”


	11. Chapter 11

Mary thrums her fingers along the china of her teacup in agitation and watches Molly carefully. Swallowing, Mary asks, “How… how much do you already know about my past?”

Molly considers. “Enough to know that John's tastes aren't far off from mine?” she says tactfully.

Mary smirks a little, a sliver of her stress receding from amusement. “You think I'm like Tom?”

Molly makes a self-deprecating noise and ducks her gaze into her teacup. “It took me some time to figure out that it wasn't the… physical model I was attracted to.”

Mary nods, considering how to explain that she wasn't just a sociopath or psychopath but a murderer, and then she stills her fingers. “I forgot,” she whispers, “you dated Jim, didn't you?”

Molly wrinkles her nose. “That didn't exactly go well.”

“Not killing you might be a sign that you didn't do too badly,” Mary muses.

“I just don't think I was very important to him,” Molly shrugs, wondering why that stings more than breaking her engagement to Tom.

“Um, can I speak?” Severin asks.

Mary fixes him with a look. “No, but go ahead.”

“Are we… are we talking about...”

“Yes Rinn, that Jim,” Mary says curtly.

Severin swallows. “Great, so next he's going to castrate me,” he mutters.

Molly gives him a look. “He'll do no such thing,” she says a little sharply.

Severin doesn't even joke about the defense of his anatomy and instead shares a look with Mary. Turning back, he gives Molly a wondering expression. “What makes you so sure?”

Molly looks away. “We just had… an understanding… that's all.”

Severin gazes at her with a mix of intimidated and intrigued. “Right,” he says a little hoarsely.

Molly squeezes her teacup. “How about we stop talking about my exes and go back to talking about you, Mary?”

Mary swallows. “Right. Well… I used to work for Jim. A long time ago.”

Molly's eyes widen a little. “Does John know?”

Mary rolls her shoulders in agitation. “He knows what I used to do, but I haven't quite worked up to telling him… about Jim yet.”

Molly nods, then glances at Severin. “And what does this one have to do with that?”

Severin waits for some teasing comment, but instead Mary swallows. “Rinn covered for me, on… the night I fucked up. A job we were on went wrong, and… Rinn made sure that when I got sacked I didn't get offed.”

Molly trails her gaze over Severin in a way that makes the blond hairs on his arms stand on end. “So why aren't you dead?” she asks.

Severin shifts his weight uncomfortably. “Unreal luck and family connections?”

Molly mentally compares this huge, sweet blond to tiny, sweet, wicked Jim. What family could connect them?

“Well it was hardly your wholesome schoolboy act,” Mary mocks.

Severin smiles, feeling a little more at ease. “You saying that's not what's kept you from plucking my tongue out all these years?”

Mary laughs. “Merely biding my time.”

Severin's lips twitch in response, but the expression fades from his face as Molly leans forwards to speak. “So how much danger are you both in?”

Mary flinches a little then shrugs. “I think Jim's just playing with us at this point.”

Molly sits up straighter. “ _Jim_ did this?”

“But it's fine,” Mary says into her cup. “He knows he's not allowed to harm Rinn.”

“Says who?” Molly asks.

“...My big brother,” Severin mumbles.

Molly gives him a considering look that makes the blond's nerves jangle then turns to Mary. “And what about you?”

Mary swallows. “If he wanted to hurt John he already would have.”

Molly nods. “If that changes you're welcome to come here. Providing the car wasn't tracked, in which case we'll work something out.”

Mary shook her head. “I swept it. Jim was just playing.”

Severin rubs his bruises and rolls his eyes. “Lot of fun, the Boss' playtime.”

Molly quirks her lips for a second, then clears her face. “So what's the plan?”

Mary shrugs tightly, looking less commanding than Molly's used to. “We wait for Jim to make the next move.”

Molly bites her lip. She never did delete Jim's number. If it still works.

She nods. “Alright, so you should go back to John before he starts to worry, and I'll hold the fort here.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Severin teases.

Molly slaps his shoulder hard enough to leave a red mark. The blond winces, but grins.

Mary drains her cup and stands, stepping forwards to pat Molly's shoulder. “Don't lead Rinn too far astray,” she teases, “he doesn't need the encouragement.”

Molly blinks at Mary's playful, knowing expression. Like they're friends. Female friends, joking about a boy.

That's certainly new for them.

Severin rests his arms on the back of the couch. “I thought you said I was to be on my best behaviour?”

Mary's lips twitch. “Firstly, you don't know how to be a good boy, so that's a fool's errand. Secondly, if Molls can handle Jim Moriarty then she'll have you collared and neutered in no time.”

Severin splutters, and Molly covers her grin with her hand, gazing between the two friends with shining eyes.

Mary kisses Molly's cheek. “See you later.”

“I don't get a kiss?” Severin protests playfully.

Mary turns and fixes him with a smirk. “Judging by Molly's neck you've already met your quota for kisses, Rinn.”

Molly and Severin turn pink. Mary grins and gives a slight wave as she leaves the flat.

Severin bites his lip and turns towards Molly shyly. “Do you-”

They both freeze as a loud clack rings through the space.

Molly puts her hand on Severin's shoulder to stop him leaping up. “It's just Toby coming home.”

Severin feels his mood plummet. If Molly only has one bedroom, is Toby..?

“MmRAOW!”

Severin jumps a little at the unexpected noise at his feet. A cat. A bloody cat. One who doesn't seem too pleased to see him.

“You're in his way,” Molly explains softly. “Budge over a bit and he'll stop shouting at you.”

“Mmra-”

Toby pauses as Severin moves over. Giving the blond a haughty look which displays something in his mouth, Toby leaps onto the couch and approaches Molly's lap. 

Molly strokes the demanding presence kneading her thighs with possessive little paws. Toby butts Molly's hand and she holds out her palm to accept the gift.

Vermin. Organs exposed, still pulsing.

“Well thanks for that, Toby,” Molly says without much inflection of disgust. Toby swells proudly and gives Severin a smug, challenging look.

He hops down and saunters across to Mary's vacated seat, where he continues to glare at Severin pointedly.

“Give me a minute,” Molly announces to Severin, moving to dispose of the large mouse and wash her hands.

“Not squeamish at all, are you?” Severin comments, trying to ignore the cat's frosty reception.

“Not remotely,” Molly shrugs. She returns to the couch. “That bother you?”

Severin shakes his head. He asks, “There a way to bribe your cat into liking me?”

Molly quirks her lips. “Well he might find some solidarity for you if I follow Mary's suggestion.”

Severin splutters. Collared and neutered.

Molly smiles playfully, which seems to dissatisfy Toby further.

“Still of the opinion that I'd like my bits intact actually,” Severin mutters. “And you're going to need to give me more motivation than that if you want me in a collar, Boss.”

Molly blinks.

Severin tenses, suddenly worried he's gone too far.

Molly looks at her hands. “Did you know adult cats don't meow at each other? Just at kittens. Cats meow at some humans because they think you're stupid.”

Severin tilts his head at the strange change in conversation. “Your cat thinks I'm stupid?”

“He only shouts at visitors,” Molly states.

Severin glances at the tortoiseshell cat. “Thanks Tobes.”

“He'll be more accepting of you if he thinks I've claimed you,” Molly mutters, feeling awkward.

Severin glances at her quickly. “Claimed me how?”

Taking him as her mate would work, but Molly is definitely not going that far to settle Toby's territorial issues. “If he thinks I groom you he'll relax,” she mumbles.

Severin pictures Molly's tongue running along his neck. “Miowww,” he says playfully, edging closer.

Feeling a bit ridiculous, Molly takes Severin's face in her hands again and begins to nuzzle his jaw. He leans into the contact bonelessly, his breath hot on Molly's shoulder.

Molly can't help it. She starts pressing kisses and light bites into the chords of Severin's neck, smiling as he gasps and makes appreciative little mewling noises that only seem half-joking.

Severin startles as Toby jumps onto the couch, inspecting them. Molly remains latched to Severin's throat, so the blond holds out a hand warily for Toby to sniff.

Toby turns his back and arrogantly curls up to sleep.

Molly gives a small smile and sucks lightly on the lobe of Severin's ear. “Feel popular now?”

Severin turns his head and captures her red mouth in a kiss. 

Meanwhile, Mary is staring at her phone. Jim has sent her a mobile number. After a second, her screen lights up again.

'Sebastian's number. He wants to know where Rinn is.'


	12. Chapter 12

Mary feels her stomach clenching as she surveys her surroundings. Shit. This is where the Moran brothers grew up?

How the hell are they so… normal? Not well adjusted, admittedly, but neither is anyone in their social circle. Certainly not her, and especially not Jim.

Mary presses the small earpiece that has never, ever been comfortable. “Remind me what I'm needed for here?” she mutters. 

Jim snorts through the tech. “Really, darling? _You_ need some handholding?”

Mary bites her lip, feeling far too exposed and poor in her setting. Worrying the skin for a beat she responds, “I'm a wetwork specialist, not a burglar.”

“Relax, you know what you're doing,” Jim says with more patience than usual.

“Have you seen this place?” Mary whines, knowing that won't change anything, but feeling the need to confess her reservations.

“Yes, I have, surprisingly enough,” Jim responds dryly.

“It's _massive_ ,” Mary continues. “You might as well have asked me to break into Buckingham Palace.”

“I somehow don't see either of the princes leading you into their family home with such a lack of qualms, do you?” Jim says.

“Well I don't know,” Mary mutters, “I dare say there's some pretty significant cracks there, wouldn't you?”

Mary can almost hear Jim's shrug through the connection. “Before my time. And it's just bad manners to harm one's _own_ monarchy.”

Mary snorts. “I swear that sort of thing is easier. Have you ever tried moving something the size of this damn painting?”

“There was, shockingly, a time when I did my own grunt work, yes,” Jim drawls.

“And now you have us plebs,” Mary says with a roll of her eyes that Jim can probably see somehow.

“That I do, and I'm rather used to you both, so do try not to get yourselves into any predicaments.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a cake walk?”

“For you,” Jim says pointedly. “This is personal to Severin; his emotions will be heightened and his reactions might be off. You're here to make sure he comes out unscathed.”

“He's hardly going to be in real danger if his daddy catches him playing silly beggars with some picture, is he?” Mary reasons.

Jim's strangely quiet for a beat. When he speaks, it's as though she's rather stupid. “You've seen Sebastian's face, right?”

Mary's heart stutters for a moment. The significant scarring on Sebastian Moran's face isn't especially shocking for a sniper, bodyguard and second most dangerous man in Britain. To hear that the Minister of Persia did that to his own boy… that's different.

Jim seems to understand that his point has hit home. “Like I said, keep an eye on Rinn. Sebastian's face is nothing compared to what they've both got under their shirts, and I don't like him being there.”

“I'll keep him safe,” Mary promises.

That promise circles around in her head for a long time afterwards, especially when everything starts to go wrong.

Severin had been walking on ahead in Mary's eyeline, leading the way through the labyrinthine manor's grounds and rooms.

Mary had followed along alertly, fake wrapped in a dark tube on her back.

They were just supposed to swap out the paintings. Rotate the fakes. Just a cruel personal joke.

No one was supposed to get hurt.

But Mary had promised to keep Severin safe, and her instincts were in control.

The natural thing to do when someone pulls a gun on you or your own is to disable them. Mary kills people for a living. That's what she's for.

Severin is white-faced and still afterwards. 

“Always thought that the old man would be the first one to get it,” he comments weakly.

Mary's hands shake for the first time she can remember. “Rinn, I...”

“Relax, I was hardly a mummy's boy,” Severin says carefully. He sighs and then touches his earpiece.

“Jim? ...I've done something stupid.”

Mary steps forwards to protest, but Severin shakes his head emphatically. 

“Yeah...” he continues. “Should we try and get a clean up crew in here, or leave… it… for my father to find? I don't think we're going to be able to stick this on him.”

Mary swallows, staring at Mrs Moran's remains between their feet.

“Christ,” Severin says. “Don't tell Sebastian. Not yet anyway.”


	13. Chapter 13

Severin tenses as the doorbell rings. “You're not expecting anyone, are you?”

Molly purses her lips. “No, but I do have friends, you know.”

“All the same give me a second before you answer it,” Severin says, flipping over the back of the couch and lifting a knife from the block in the kitchen. He eases it out of sight. “Okay, we can go now.”

Molly fixes him with a look. “No. Either you'll frighten someone I know, or you'll expose yourself to whoever's looking for you. Get out of sight.”

“I'm not-”

“Stay out of sight, Severin,” Molly warns, and crosses through to the hall to open the front door.

She freezes upon opening the door to a bigger, more obviously scarred version of Severin. Molly licks her dry lips, tries to ignore her pounding heart, and manages to keep her voice mostly even as she asks, “Can I help you?”

Surprisingly, the blond pulls back in surprise as though he recognises her.

“Do I know you?” Molly asks dubiously.

Sebastian runs a hand through his hair. Of course. Jim always had a sick sense of humour. Probably thought this was funny.

Sebastian narrows his eyes and crosses his impressive arms. “Where's my brother?”

Molly does not appreciate the attempt at intimidation. “Gosh, have you lost him? Maybe you should have been looking out for him better.”

Sebastian's blue eyes flash and his arms are suddenly at his sides, shoulders squaring to make himself look bigger. “Was that a threat?”

Molly rolls her eyes, finding it hard to be afraid of someone who looks so much like Severin, and feeling protective enough of her guest that she might just strike this intruder. Severin's brother.

“I don't need threats, Moran, because when you bring your aggression to my front door it really doesn't incline me to tell you anything about your brother.”

Sebastian flinches slightly. “You know who I am?”

Molly arches a brow, oblivious that he actually means, 'Jim told you about me??' She responds, “It's not like there's no family resemblance between you and Rinn.”

Rinn. Not Severin. Not Moran. Sebastian feels his insides twist. How well does _Molly Hooper_ know his brother?

Molly is staring at Sebastian like he's something to be dissected. Maybe she's not the boring thing Jim insisted to a jealous Sebastian that she was.

“Did Jim send you?” Molly asks coolly.

Sebastian shakes his head, clenching his fists uncomfortably.

“One moment,” Molly declares, then she closes the door in his face.

Sebastian blinks. Only Jim does that to him.

Molly crosses her arms and looks back down the hall. “Well?”

Severin considers. “Do you think he wanted to see me? Or that he was sent for me?”

“He seems upset,” Molly surmises.

“Like he doesn't want to be here?”

“Like he's fighting emotion or a moral compass and doesn't like it,” Molly says thoughtfully.

“Oh, that sounds like him,” Severin states, pushing himself away from the doorframe. “Emotions are bad for you, don't you know?”

Molly rolls her eyes, but stays close as Severin steps aside and continues down to open the door.

“Hey,” Severin says gruffly.

Naked relief and concern washes over Sebastian's face and demeanour. His little brother is indeed alive, but his face doesn't look too pretty. “Are you okay?”

Severin crosses his arms. “I'm fine, no thanks to you and your fucking boyfriend.”

“Let me see. Now,” Sebastian insists, stepping closer.

“Seb, I said I'm fine,” Severin says, a little more gently.

“Rinn,” Sebastian says warningly. His large, scarred hands go to the hem of Severin's borrowed teeshirt and pull upwards.

Severin squirms away, backing into the hall with his bruises exposed. “Relax. I was a good little boy and didn't talk back. I'm fine.”

Sebastian circles Severin in assessment then presses closer threateningly. “You were fine and you didn't bother to tell me?” 

Severin straightens his back. “Why would I?”

Sebastian draws his glaring face closer to his brother's own. “Because I'm your big fucking brother and I need to know that you're safe and where you are every second of the fucking day, Rinn.”

“When are either of us ever safe, Sebastian?” Severin sneers.

“Exactly!” Sebastian roars. “I've been so bloody worried I could fucking skin you.”

Severin pushes him a little. “Then maybe you should keep your boyfriend on a shorter leash, eh?”

Sebastian thrusts his brother against the wall, although he knows damn well that Rinn has a point.

“Hey! Back off, the pair of you!” Molly scolds.

Severin half glances towards her, instantly feeling bad for being chided, and shoves away Sebastian's hands.

Which only seems to aggravate him further, and swiftly the brothers escalate to scrapping out their heightened emotions.

And Molly knows Severin has one of her kitchen knives.

“Boys!”

Not even Severin turns around this time.

Think, think, think. What distracts idiot men?

Well, tits, but Molly draws the line at flashing two men when her front door is wide open.

But wait. There's an app for this.

Molly pulls out her phone and keys up an app she's used before in work to explain reactions and bullet directions.

A recorded gunshot rings out, causing the fighting Morans to instantly pause and throw each other to the floor defensively.

“Well now that I've got your attention,” Molly says sternly, “one of you can close the door, then you can both come in and sit down. Discuss your problems like civilised human beings.”

Severin swallows. “Sorry, Boss,” he apologises sincerely.

Sebastian's gaze snaps to his brother then to Molly fucking Hooper. What is going on?

Molly fixes Rinn with a look, not because she's truly mad, but because she rather likes that meek expression on his cut up face.

She leads them through to the living area and fetches a basin from under the sink. “All weapons. In here, now,” Molly orders.

The boys blink at her, but then Rinn obediently pulls out his borrowed knife and gives it up. Sebastian swallows a rather juvenile sounding groan and drops in most of his own toys.

“Thank you,” Molly says, “now how about the others?”

Sebastian glares. “I'm not-”

“I was only really asking out of courtesy. Do as you're told, Sebastian Moran,” Molly says sharply.

Sebastian is not easily intimidated, but Severin's hand on his arm stills an argumentative retort. 

“You can trust her,” says Severin.

Sebastian makes a disparaging noise that makes Rinn curious, then reluctantly obeys.

“You can have your toys back at hometime,” Molly declares, snatching up the basin and dumping it back under the sink.

Toby rubs against her legs and fixes the brothers with a glare.


	14. Chapter 14

Sebastian rubs his face, trying to process how on a supposed mere fluke Severin could have stumbled upon Molly as his protector.

There are no coincidences where Jim is concerned. Whatever Rinn thinks.

Rinn who is sitting across from Sebastian beside his new friend so they don't continue fighting like naughty little boys. She actually said that. Hooper. “Naughty little boys,” like she was talking to a pair of under tens and not trained killers employed by the shadow king Jim Moriarty.

Severin's squirming and lapping up the scolding like he has major issues, and the brunette's giving the little freak a look that isn't entirely soft. Sebastian does not like it at all.

And Severin knows it, by that guilty grin on his face that little brothers everywhere wear.

Sebastian sulks, feeling deeply irritated that Rinn can exasperate him like this still. They're approaching forty for fuck's sake.

Sebastian pales suddenly, imagining Severin pulling this shit in a nursing home. Not that either of them are every likely to live long enough to become bickering geriatrics, but it's an appalling image.

“Are you alright?” Molly asks, as though this isn't all her fault, the bitch.

“No,” Sebastian grumbles, crossing his arms. He can tell from the rising heat to his ears and from Rinn's expression that he sounds utterly childish, but he doesn't care. He _doesn't_.

Fucking Molly Hooper. Fucking Rinn.

Oh God, fucking. They're definitely fucking.

Sebastian feels an urge to shoot himself, but the urge is swiftly marched away by the thought of a livid Jim Moriarty dragging Sebastian back to life to seek vengeance for the errant choice.

Severin purses his lips in amusement. “Are you sure you're okay, bro?”

“Shut up,” Sebastian mutters.

“Why did you bother coming if you just want to sit and glare?” Rinn comments. “Jim is literally rubbing off on you.”

Sebastian grits his square teeth. “Shut up, I said.”

Molly sighs. “Boys...”

“I'm a fucking grown man!” Sebastian snaps.

“And you're really acting like it,” Molly retorts, uncowed.

Sebastian glares. He should go get that bucket and shoot them both. Repeatedly.

Molly turns to ask Severin how to get the stick out of his brother's butt, but then her lips still as she has a thought.

 _Clack_.

Toby trots through to the living room to examine the intruders. He freezes before Sebastian and the blond smiles, pleased that he can at least intimidate the damn cat.

But then the creature is leaping onto Sebastian's lap and over his shoulders. Toby crawls over Sebastian, sniffing the suddenly very still man with interest, and making Severin's insides burn with ridiculous jealousy. 

Molly raises her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God you're _Tiger_.”

Sebastian looks up swiftly, earning a hiss of rebuke and claw pricks from four cross little paws. He presses his lips together for a moment. “What?” he responds.

“You're Jim's Tiger. And that's why you're sulking,” Molly surmises. “You're still jealous.” 

Sebastian's eyes flash dangerously. “I'm not-” 

Molly rolls her eyes and stands. She beckons Sebastian with her hand. “Get even with him if it makes you feel better.”

“What?” Sebastian asks stupidly.

Severin suddenly feels deeply uncomfortable.

Molly steps across and carefully lifts a reluctant Toby from Sebastian's neck, handing him to Severin. “Toby smells Jim, that's all,” Molly murmurs, as though she can notice some of Rinn's jealousy.

She steps closer to Sebastian. “Are you evening the score or what?”

Sebastian swallows and clenches his fists. He's not...

“No? Then get over it,” Molly says firmly, turning away.

“Wait,” Sebastian blurts gruffly, taking her wrist and tugging her little frame against his.

She blinks.

This is the girl Jim dated and didn't disappear. This is the girl Jim surely had some fucked up soft spot for.

Sebastian doesn't even notice his growl as he pulls the bitch closer and crashes his lips against hers.

He's surprised when she reaches up and pulls his hair. But he shouldn't be. Of course Jim wouldn't have wanted some simpering little girl. This Molly Hooper is confident in her detachment, something in her teeth suggesting that she bites when she's more interested.

Sebastian's suddenly tempted by the challenge.

Molly pulls away with the barest smile around her nonchalant expression. She meets Sebastian's eyes with an expression he can't decipher, then reaches down and takes one of his large, calloused hands.

His shoulders shift a little in surprise as Hooper deposits his palm on her breast. Sebastian barely has time to react before she is peeling him away and stepping back.

“There,” she says dryly. “Now you've gotten just as far as Jim did.”

Sebastian stares at her. He can feel her smooth lips on his own still.

Molly walks back to her seat beside Severin. He's also staring at her.

Her lips twitch. “What?” she asks softly. “You're jealous now too?”

He nods stiffly.

Molly runs her top teeth along her lower lip. Her eyes smile. “Do I need to guide you by the hand too, or do you think you can manage?”

The teasing really shouldn't send heat directly to Severin's naval. He places Toby aside and grips Molly's waist, lifting her onto his lap fiercely.

Molly smirks and leans into his neck. “Look at you showing off because you have an audience,” she whispers.

Severin loosens his grip. “Do you mind?” he replies softly.

Molly digs her nails into his shoulders a little. “I'd let you know if I didn't like something.”

Severin leans forwards and captures her mouth firmly, his chest feeling warm as she grins into the kiss.

Molly runs her hand up the soft, short hair on the back of his warm scalp. A few keloid scars rise up to meet her fingers. She presses closer.

Severin opens his eyes, searching for her's. They glint encouragingly, so he snakes up a hand to knead the breast Sebastian touched. Then, because Molly is _his_ , Severin pays attention to the other, smiling at the way the brunette leans happily into the contact.

Toby is coiled around Sebastian's ankles by the time the blond realises he needs to know whether Hooper bites.

He steps around the cat carefully and approaches the couple.

Sebastian pulls Molly back by the hair, more carefully than he could have, and kisses her fiercely.

Severin's hands still on Molly's body and start to pull away, but she drags them back firmly.

Severin blinks, and suddenly feeling brave, he scoots down a bit so he can mouth Molly teasingly through her top.

Molly makes a soft noise in her throat, then breaks a hiss from Sebastian as she nips his tongue. She pulls at the neckline of her shirt, granting Severin further access.

Sebastian's arousal brushes Molly's side. She blinks heated eyes, then glances down to confirm Severin's own excitement.

Molly pulls back just a little, holding Sebastian in place to prevent him seeing the action as dismissal. “How… How far are we going, boys?”

Severin pulls his mouth away from her skin but keeps his hands where they are. “As far as you're comfortable with. We won't do anything you don't want.”

“Oh, I want,” Molly mutters to the ceiling.

Sebastian exchanges looks with Severin then says, “We've crossed swords before, if that's what you're asking.”

Molly meets Severin's eyes. “Yes?”

Severin grins a little and nods. He might have preferred their first time alone, but this is a darn sight better than _Sebastian_ getting there first.

Molly lightly slaps Sebastian's bicep. “In that case, _you're wearing too much clothes_ ,” she tugs Severin's hair gently, “and _you_ should be putting your mouth to use.”

The brothers grin and obey. 

“Is here good or are we moving this upstairs?” Sebastian asks, pulling off his sweater. 

“The bedroom's his,” Molly says, filling Severin's chest with a proud glow, “but here is fine.” 

She pulls back from Severin for a moment with a scowl, then smacks Sebastian firmly. “And I told you no weapons, so get that gun with the others before I decide you don't get to cum.” 

Sebastian gives her a rueful look and rubs his rear, but obediently retreats to put his gun away. 

“And the knife,” Molly calls, “you're not gonna need that on a first date, soldier.” 

Sebastian blinks, but dumps the concealed weapon with the others and returns quickly. 

“No trousers,” Molly adds. 

She lowers her gaze to Severin and touches his nose. “ _You_ get to cum first, because you're my good boy. But you'll need to take these off first.” Molly runs her hand considerably lower, enjoying how Rinn gasps from the touch. 

“Stand up,” Molly orders. 

Rinn leaps to his feet, feeling excitement flutter in his chest and lower as she gives his pajamas a firm yank downwards. It's the first time she's seen him and she's not staring at the scarring over his hip at all. Just at him. How much he wants her. 

Molly surprises Severin with a kiss to his gleaming tip that feels like electricity bursting from her lip, and then she's tugging him into position on the couch. 

Molly turns around and grabs Sebastian. “Floor,” she orders. 

Sebastian seems to understand her plan swiftly. He tweaks Molly's clothing between thumb and forefinger. “This is gonna get in my way.” 

Molly rolls her eyes, then she's stepping out of her obstructing outfit and bundling it into his face. 

Sebastian laughs and drops to the floor. Narrowly he misses kicking Toby, who is nesting in Sebastian's discarded clothing. 

Molly takes grip of Severin's warm, pale hips and pulls him close enough to lick. 

“C'n I..?” Rinn whispers. 

Molly nods, and smiles at the feel of his unsteady hands in her long hair. She grins and takes him to the root. 

“Oh, _fuck_!” Severin exclaims. 

Molly giggles softly and withdraws a little, working him up to that attention with swirling licks and increasingly swift sucks. 

Sebastian bites her white thigh. “I don't know what _you're_ laughing for,” he drawls, then he's gripping her flesh firmly and arching up to ravage those other lips. 

Molly gasps, squirming at his heat and touch, and juddering against Severin's skin. He moans breathily. 

It makes Sebastian a little suspicious how easily the three of them find a rhythm, but Severin doesn't seem to notice much other than how good Hooper's mouth seems to be around Rinn's prick. 

The brunette keeps her word, ensuring Severin finds relief first, then Sebastian focuses his effort, using his fingers and tongue to rip wicked noises from that supposedly meek mouth. 

Severin rises up to kiss Molly fiercely, but the noises don't stop, moans breaking from her rising chest. Her skin is misted with sweat and her eyelids are lowered as she rides out the sensations. 

Eventually Sebastian takes pity on Molly's trembling thighs and climbs out from under her. She looks wrecked, but she instantly jumps him, pinning Sebastian to the floor with a playful drawl of, “Your turn!” 

Severin joins her on the floor, crawling like a puppy as he kisses and nips Molly's skin lightly in his teeth. 

Molly gives him a warm look then dips her head to take Sebastian in her mouth. 

Well, the blond thinks, if Jim had gotten this far he wouldn't have broken up with Molly after three dates. And then coherent thought becomes a little difficult as Molly fucking Hooper teases him with those teeth. 

By the time they are fully sated the trio are tangled in an easy quiet, Molly under Sebastian's arm, his hand stroking his brother's hair, and Rinn spread out across both of them. 

They have all completely forgotten that the front door isn't locked until Toby gets up from his nest and darts over them to race towards the hallway. 

Molly sits up quickly, confused and a little concerned. 

She is not prepared to see Jim from IT, notorious criminal mastermind, step into her living room. 

But she also cannot bring herself to panic, as the Moran brothers have put her in a very good mood. 

He actually seems shocked, standing frozen in the doorway with Toby pressed tightly around his legs. 

Sebastian, Molly and Severin are on the floor in a state of undress. The air is thick with the scent of arousal and sweat. 

“What-?” Jim stutters. “What..? ...Sebastian?” 

Sebastian eases out from under the others. They aren't in a closed relationship, but Jim is possessive and he's not likely to be happy about seeing this. 

“Get dressed, Sebastian,” Jim orders, his stunned mind finally catching up with his senses. “Daddy's _not_ happy.” 

Sebastian swallows and obeys quickly. His clothing covered in cat hair. 

“H-Hi Jim,” Molly says. 

Jim shoots her a look. However, Toby continues to greet him lovingly, which seems to embarrass Jim further, and he bends to give the demanding cat attention, glaring warningly at the brothers. 

Toby curls around Jim's chest ecstatically. 

Molly's lips twitch. “You drugged my cat to like you, didn't you?” She doesn't sound annoyed. 

“I didn't need to drug him,” Jim mutters, not entirely conscious of leaning into the contact as Toby rubs his fluffy face into Jim's neck. 

He frowns a little. “Why do you have my boys, Molls?” 

Molly suddenly remembers why Severin's coloured with bruising. She stands quickly, careful not to kick Rinn, and strides towards Jim, completely uncaring of her nakedness, and danger flashing in her eyes. 

“What the fuck have you been upto, Jimmy?” she exclaims. “You shouldn't treat people like that.” 

Jim frowns and crosses his arms, which looks slightly ridiculous with Toby on his shoulders and white hairs covering his dark suit. “Surprise, Molly, I'm not actually a nice man.” 

Molly snorts. “I know _that_. That doesn't mean I approve. I'm not happy with you.” 

“Why should I care?” Jim asks. 

“Because you don't deserve to have toys if you can't play with them nicely,” Molly rebukes. 

Jim stares at her darkly, evidently plotting behind his eyes like a scolded child. 

“Sebastian,” Molly says, “Mummy and Daddy are going to have a talk. Be a good boy and make tea for four of us, will you?” 

Sebastian moves his gaze between Molly and Jim uncomfortably. 

Jim swallows, uncertain whether he ought to be amused. His lips twitch. “You heard Mummy, Tiger. Don't give Daddy any more reason to spank you.” 

Sebastian presses his lips into a thin line then disappears into the kitchen. 

Severin reaches for his borrowed clothes. 


	15. Chapter 15

“I heard you were going by 'Mary' now.”

The blonde freezes at the clipped yet youthful Irish drawl. Butler trots along beside the young man dressed in an Armani suit and an odd expression.

“Artemis,” Mary says quietly. “How are you doing?”

“Quite well, officially,” he burrs, then swallows. It makes Mary tense. He's never uncomfortable. Artemis continues, “Although I confess I have something I need to discuss with you.”

Mary frowns. “Why do I not like the sound of that?”

“Likely as you are not as stupid as some might think,” Artemis replies. Butler gives him a look.

“Wow, thanks, Fowl.”

He sighs. “We are both aware of my lack of social skills. Don't be surprised.”

“Oh, I'm not,” Mary says dryly.

Artemis presses his lips together.

“What do you want, Artemis?” Mary prompts.

“What I want and what I am bothering to engage in conversation with you for may be related but are hardly the same thing,” Artemis snaps.

Mary rolls her eyes. “Well someone's cranky. It past your bedtime?”

Artemis pinches the bridge of his nose. “I take it back: I'm not sorry.”

“You didn't say you were in the first place,” Mary responds.

“And now I'm not all at,” Artemis grumbles.

“Very mature,” the blonde drawls.

“Artemis,” Butler prompts.

The young man sighs. “There's something I ought to tell you. Mary.”

Mary crosses her arms. “I'm listening, for now.”

Artemis scowls. “I… did something,” he says stiffly.

Mary raises her brows suspiciously. “Uh huh?”

“I believe it had a negative impact on yourself,” Artemis mutters.

“Recently?” Mary asks.

“No.”

Mary licks her lips and nods, expression cool. “When we were working together.”

“Yes.”

Mary gives him a frosty look. “You were responsible for that fuck up?”

“It was hardly my finger on the tri-” Artemis pauses. “Yes. I was to blame.”

“Well I hope Butler withheld your puddings for a year,” Mary snaps.

Artemis flushes uncomfortably. His brows knot. He _hates_ being treated like a child.

“That had _major consequences_!” Mary exclaims.

Artemis swallows. “I know. I apologise.”

“I'm lucky to be alive, Fowl,” Mary growls.

“I wouldn't have let-”

“She died. How could you have stopped Jim having worse done to me?” Mary asks curtly.

“That wasn't my intention,” Artemis states. “It happened too fast for me to prevent.”

“Well, likewise,” Mary says bitterly.

“I just thought that you should know,” Artemis says softly.

“And years later was the best time to mention this?” Mary questions.

Artemis bites his lip. “I am not good at admitting my mistakes.”

“Why are you even here?” Mary asks.

“For this,” Artemis says.

Mary fixes him with a look. “You flew all the way over here to tell me this?”

Artemis shrugs uncomfortably. “It hardly takes an hour.”

“Oh of course; private plane,” Mary scoffs.

“I don't particularly enjoy being crammed in with supposed other members of my species,” Artemis says.

“Get out of my sight, little boy,” Mary states, rubbing her forehead tiredly.

Artemis turns to go, but Butler's hand on his shoulder stills him. “We are sincerely sorry,” says the bodyguard.

Mary's gaze flickers. “They still lost their mother.”

“It's not like she ever protected them,” Artemis says.

Mary blinks. How did even this kid know about _that_ when she had to be told?

Oh of course. Probably hacked in to the feed and heard about it at the exact time Mary had all those years ago.


	16. Chapter 16

“Can I come in?”

Molly takes in the upset look on Mary's face and steps aside immediately. “What's happened now?”

“Nothing, really?” Mary mumbles, crossing her arms. “Not really. But it just… Brought things back. I didn't want to see John until I'd calmed down.”

Molly squeezes Mary's arm. “You're always welcome here.”

Mary gives a watery smile. “Thank you.”

Severin peers around the doorframe. “Mary? You okay?”

Mary nods.

Severin frowns. “What happened?” he asks protectively.

Mary stares at her hands, trying to order her words.

Molly nudges them through to the living room and steps into the kitchen to fix not tea but spirits.

Mary accepts the thick glass gratefully. Molly sits quietly to let them talk.

Severin plays with his own glass. “Did Jim-”

“No,” Mary says. “Not Jim.”

Severin looks up with surprise. “Then what?”

Mary drains her glass. “That thing Jim's cross with us about still?”

“...Yeah?” Severin says warily.

Mary presses her lips together. “Maybe wasn't an accident.”

“ _What_?”

“I didn't… I should have asked questions but I didn't think. But it wasn't our fault. What… what happened,” Mary says.

“Who were you talking to?” Severin asks softly.

“Fowl,” Mary says. “He… said it was an accident, but he had a hand in it somehow.”

Severin nods soberly, frowning as he bites his lip. “He was just a kid,” he says at last.

Mary looks up. “He's far smarter than 'just a kid' and he got your...”

“He got my mother shot,” Severin says carefully. “But he was fourteen and we brought him in on a job. That's not on him.” 

He feels Molly's eyes on him. Heaving a sigh, Severin turns around and tries to explain. “There… There was a painting my father was very attached to, because of the notoriety attached to it. The… only fairies he had time for. And we were just… playing a game. Wanted to mess with his head a bit, make him doubt himself, nothing near what he deserved. So...”

“Jim commissioned his sister and this Fowl kid to make fakes to be switched out,” Mary adds. “And the painting was already a fake anyway, because fourteen year old Fowl was just as good as Jim at stealing notorious paintings.”

“And somehow when we went in to switch the paintings… Mum was already there with a gun pointed at us,” Severin says dully.

“I… didn't give her time to drop the gun,” Mary says guiltily. “Shot on instinct.”

“Jim wasn't happy,” Severin says.

Molly swallows. “Why would he be more upset about it than you?”

Severin gives a sad, patient smile. “Because Jim offered to kill both our parents quite horribly when he heard how they treated us, and Sebastian asked him not to.”

“That made them off limits,” Mary says.

“And we made it seem like Jim had broke a promise,” Severin says.

Molly crosses her arms. “That doesn't make it acceptable.”

The others grin dryly. “Try telling Jim that,” Severin says.

Molly's lips twitch. “You don't think telling him off once today is enough?”

“Jim came by?” Mary exclaims.

Molly nods carefully.

Severin bites his lip. “It was… interesting.”

Molly glances at her cat Toby pining pathetically on the carpet.

“Did Sebastian come?” Mary asks.

Molly and Severin grin awkwardly in tandem.

“You could say that,” Molly mutters.

Mary frowns curiously.

Severin bites his lip. “Poor old Seb's on the naughty list.”

“For doing what?” Mary asks.

Severin glances at Molly for permission then admits, “Us.”

Mary gives them an astonished look. “What?”

Molly stares at her hands. “We might have been caught up in the moment...”

Mary blinks. “I didn't realise you were Sebastian's type.”

“I'm not, except in that I've slept with Jim and he was jealous,” Molly says.

Severin looks at her. “You told him you didn't sleep with Jim.”

Molly gives him a look. “You're above white lies are you, criminal boy?”

Severin closes his mouth. “Point taken.”

Mary chuckles softly into her empty glass. “Arty screwed us at age fourteen and Sebastian's fucked for fucking you pair. Marvellous.”

“I didn't fuck my brother,” Severin complains.

A smile plays about Mary's face. “I'm not judging you Rinn.”

“I hate you,” Severin huffs, but his posture says otherwise.

Mary smirks at Molly. “Points out of ten for both of them?”

Molly tops up their glasses. “I'm not answering that.”

Severin turns to her with a disgruntled look. “You'll give Seb a white lie but you won't tell me I'm the best?”

Molly's eyes sparkle. “You've been spoiled more than enough recently. I don't want you to turn into any more of a brat.”

“I'm much more adorable than Sebastian when I'm punished,” Severin says.

Molly grins. “I'll be sure to compare notes with Jim.”

“How upset was Jim anyway?” Mary asks, light glinting off of her new drink.

“Seb's not going to be walking properly for a few days,” Severin says casually. It might bother him that Sebastian is currently in big trouble, if he didn't know that Sebastian and Jim would be loving every minute of the possessive 'punishments'.

“Poor boy,” Mary says without much sympathy.

There is a lull in the conversation.

“So what are we doing about Fowl?” Severin asks softly.

“I don't know,” Mary says. “Like you said, he was just a kid. And he apologised.”

Severin smiles softly despite the dark circumstances. “Artemis Fowl the second _apologised_?”

Mary nods.

“Guess the rumours might have some truth in them then,” Severin muses.

Mary curls her lip. “That he's become a good little boy? Not bloody likely.”

“Maybe he's drawn a line at killing people,” Severin shrugs.

“I'm more interested in what he'd have to gain from messing up our job,” Mary says.

“Maybe he didn't really already have the original painting,” Severin says.

Mary shakes her head. “The sixteenth Herve was much harder to get hold of than your father's.” 

Severin rubs his face. “Who understands people like him and Jim?”

Mary twitches her lips. “Sebastian seems to.”

“Sebastian has serious issues,” Severin responds.

Mary's eyes glitter. “And you don't?”

Severin bites back a retort. Molly looks at him thoughtfully.

“You're sore again,” she comments.

He gives her an embarrassed look.

Molly rolls her eyes, getting up to fill a hot water bottle and fetch him some painkillers that he can mix alcohol with.

Mary smiles at the caring gesture and the fond, trusting look on Severin's face as he looks back at Molly. Perhaps not everything is going wrong recently.

They're cute together.

“It's about time I touched base with John,” Mary declares, getting up.

Molly hugs her as she leaves. It's nice for both of them.

“You're a good friend,” Mary tells Molly at the door. Molly smiles.

With Mary gone, Molly returns to Severin and gives him an assessing look. “Do you want to go to bed?”

Severin blinks, but then looks a little embarrassed. “I'm a bit too sore right now...”

“Not for that,” Molly says. “To sleep. I suppose now it would be silly not to trust you in my bed.”

Severin smiles a little. “I'll be a bad boy when I'm feeling better, I promise.”

Molly laughs. “Don't you dare. I like you how you are.”

Severin gives her a pleased, toothy grin, but teases, “Beaten and pliable?”

Molly purses her lips amusedly. “Maybe something like that.”

Severin bites his lips and looks at her. “Kiss me better, Boss?

She really shouldn't feel shy after what they've already done, but Molly does. She gives him a soft smile and takes his face in her hands.


	17. Chapter 17

“If you're going to put this right you still need to confess to Jim Moriarty.”

Artemis sighs. “And you're not remotely worried about him coming after me, are you?”

Butler makes his face. “I might have aged, but so has he.”

“He hasn't been reanimated,” Artemis says tightly.

Butler gazes pointedly at the loafer within which Artemis' fresh extra digit lingers. “Has it done you any harm?”

Artemis sighs. “You don't need to posture with me, old friend.”

Butler fixes his principal with a stern look. “I do when you're trying to squirm out of your duty Artemis.”

“Who's squirming?” Artemis protests indignantly.

“He's right you know,” comes a voice from the window.

Artemis sighs and lets his friend the LEP Recon officer in. “Of course you'd take his side.”

“Did you learn nothing from what happened with Spiro?” Holly says.

Artemis does not sulk, and tells himself to stop noticing that she smells of grass and citrus. “Does this not feel a lot more serious than Spiro?”

Holly smiles grimly. “You tell me. Aren't we always saving humanity?”

“And fairykind of course,” Artemis quips back, but he does not look relaxed at all.

Holly drops a hand on his arm. “We need to do this, Fairy Rose.”

Artemis' expression twitches. “I thought I told you to stop calling me that...”

Holly grins a little. “Not likely, Mud Boy. You're still not forgiven.”

Butler prods Artemis heavily in the shoulder, making the suited boy stumble. “Not remotely forgiven.”

“There was literally no other way for it to work,” Artemis says for what might have been the thousandth time since the incident with the Gate.

“Still not forgiven, Fairy Rose,” Butler growls.

Artemis sighs. “Great. So after that motivational pep talk...”

Butler doesn't answer or gesture in any way, but his negative response is evident regardless.

Artemis chews his lip, a disgustingly human habit that nonetheless seemed to bring an odd comfort. He had always trusted in his intelligence before, but… Moriarty may well be his equal. And that is very bad indeed.

“What if he starts to remember?” Artemis asks.

“Moriarty's not likely to believe anything he remembers,” Holly says reasonably.

“He was on the list,” Artemis says tightly, as though his friends aren't already painfully aware of that fact.

“That's not his fault, and we can fix this,” Holly says in sober reassurance.

Artemis tastes the copper tang of blood in his mouth. “But if I'd destroyed Moriarty back then… A lot of people might have lived.”

“Don't start with that Mud Man nonsense,” Holly says. “All life is sacred. And he's… the brother of Juliet's friend. He's not just some monster.”

“Isn't he?” Artemis asks, running a hand through his black hair. “Foaly showed you what Jim did to that detective.”

“You kidnapped your best friend,” Holly responds, “maybe Moriarty's not all bad either.”

“We can hardly afford to risk that,” says Artemis, not flinching guiltily for once. “What if they contact him? _What if they managed to program him before I got involved and he activates?_ ”

“Stop,” Butler says.

“One step at a time,” Holly agrees.

Artemis closes his eyes and psyches himself up. “Right; I'm going.”

Butler's hand catches the dark Armani suit. “Oh no, I'm coming with you every step of the way. If I don't you might build another laser.” 

Artemis purses his lips. “That laser would have came in useful!” 

Butler fixes his charge with a look. “As would your upper body strength, if you would keep your promises and work a bag for _forty-five minutes_.”

“Try making that seem a bit more threatening?” Holly says with a smile.

“I am Butler,” Butler huffed, “ _everything_ I say sounds threatening, fairy.”

“Quaking in my boots,” Artemis mutters, but the task at hand makes his head hurt. He stands still for a moment.

Holly stares after him. _'I was a broken boy and you fixed me. Thank you.'_ “Arty...”

“Work to be done, Captain,” Artemis sighs, and then he walks from the room, Butler at his back.


	18. Chapter 18

Jamie cackles gleefully, comfortably sharing the screen before her with Irene. The blonde has hacked into a number of interesting correspondences. Again.

The brunette purses her painted lips in amusement and sips slowly from her wine glass. “ _Useless_ men.”

Jamie closes her eyes and tilts her head back as she agrees, “Utterly useless men.”

“They'd never get anything done if we weren't here to steer them,” Irene tuts.

“Honestly, their ridiculous little emotions,” Jamie says. “They press each others' buttons and it's farcical.”

“Meanwhile we hold the fort whilst they have each other beaten up or bend each other over,” Irene says with a roll of her eyes.

Jamie purses her lips. “My brother being a prime example of this idiocy. He unknowingly lets Fowl needle him, takes it out on...Mary… by taking it out on Rinn, sulks when Sebastian throws a tantrum, and now look at them. Haven't left the bedroom in days.”

“We're in the wrong business,” Irene bemoans in amusement.

“It would serve them all terribly right if I took their businesses out from underneath them whilst they're all squabbling,” Jamie huffs. “No one even acknowledges that I'm keeping them afloat.”

“Naughty boys certainly deserve to have their toys taken away,” Irene purrs from over the rim of the glass, but she's mostly convinced that Jamie is too loyal to follow through.

“Idiots,” Jamie grumbles.

She is broken out of her sulk by someone pushing open the door. She eyes the toned young woman with glittering eyes.

“You're late, wicked girl,” Irene says playfully.

Juliet grins. “I know. Beckett got in trouble for fighting,” she says hopefully.

Jamie understands the significance of that immediately and scrambles to her feet, pushing the laptop fully over to Irene. “So how much notice do you need to give?” Jamie asks. 

Juliet purses her lips. Rolling her eyes at her friend's eagerness Juliet responds, “Few years still before he's trained up.”

Jamie suddenly looks very pleased with herself. She glides across the room to kiss Juliet's cheek. “I can wait.”

“So you keep telling me, and yet it is all you talk about,” Juliet teases.

“Who can blame me for wanting this lean, mean, killing machine?” Jamie purrs.

“I don't kill people,” Juliet retorts calmly, taking Jamie's warm, vacated seat and taking an interested look at Irene's screens.

Jamie scoffs. “You can't lie to me, Juliet Butler.”

Juliet curls her lips. “I don't kill _often_. And I certainly don't intend to let you traipse into the sort of circumstances where I believe I'm likely to.”

Irene smirks. “What she means, Jamie pet, is get your fun now before little Beckett becomes Myles' bodyguard.”

Jamie sighs theatrically and flops down on Juliet's lap. “I have no time for fun anymore, don't you know? I'm too busy keeping tabs on my idiot brothers, and the Moran brothers, and,” she waves her hand at Juliet, “your Artemis, who keeps playing silly beggars with the big boys.”

“He's up to something,” Juliet shrugs, “but I'm not likely to find out what until I go home. I wouldn't be too worried: he's a good boy at heart.”

Jamie curls her lip. “That does not reassure me. Jim's shrunken, black little heart is full of love and loyalty at its core, but he is far more likely to have Sebastian shoot a little old lady in the head than to help her cross the street. Might crumple one of his overpriced suits.”

Juliet merely smiles. “Artemis is surrounded by far better influences than poor old Jim ever was.”

“I'm a marvellous influence,” Jamie protests with faux indignation. “And apart from their blood lust the Morans can be very sweet boys. They'd probably be far better behaved if they didn't have my wicked little brother regularly egging them on.”

Irene turns the laptop to give the others a better vantage. “I'd give them each a taste of the horsewhip, put them to bed on their tummies, and be done with it.”

Jamie curses at the screen. “I think I'd rather kill them.”

“I doubt Arty could take a whipping,” Juliet says in mild amusement, “even if you could persuade my brother to let you try.”

Irene curls her lip. “He's an adorable little brat. Give him a few years and I'd love to break him down just to see how clingy I can get him during aftercare. Although I'd be much more interested in getting my hands and my toys on your brother.”

Juliet grimaces. “I'm not listening.”

“Listen to me instead,” says Jamie. “Another painting's gone missing. That dear little brat Artemis is going to get himself in trouble.”

“The fairy paintings?” Juliet questions, leaning closer.

Jamie crosses her arms. “If Jimmy's involved in that again after the last fiasco he'll have worse to fear from me than a bloody horsewhip.”

Juliet presses her lips together. She's not quite at the stage of talking 'fairies' with her friends, but she admits, “Seems like something is definitely going on.”

“I thought Fowl was supposed to be cleaning himself up?” Jamie muses.

“He doesn't do things on whims,” Juliet says grimly. “There will be a reason.”

Irene looks up. “Do you think he's safe?”

Juliet swallows. “I want this one with blood on his knees and tears of despair on his face,” the wrestler murmurs. She presses her lips together tightly. 

“What?” Jamie questions.

Juliet seems agitated. “Something someone said about Artemis once.” 

Irene has the sense not to joke. “Go make sure he's okay,” she says instead.

Jamie nods and squeezes Juliet's shoulder in reassurance. “And Joolz? Rest assured that if Jimmy's involved I'll kick his arse for you.”

Juliet gives a brief smile. “I'll ground Artemis.”


	19. Chapter 19

“And you said you were sore.”

Severin grins. “I am, but I wasn't turning that down twice.”

Molly rolls her eyes and checks the time. “You're due another dose.”

“But I just… Oh. Oh alright,” Severin says, looking stunned and a little bit proud of himself.

Molly purses her lips and eases out of bed. “Is that smug face necessary?”

Severin reaches for Molly, trying to pull her back to the sheets. “Very. Stay.”

Molly swats him lightly. “Pills first, I don't want you crying on me.”

“And there I thought you liked the collar idea, Boss.”

Molly cannot help the escape of a bright peal of laughter. “Shut up. I'll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Severin watches her with possessive eyes as she walks naked to the doorway. She turns and grins. “Don't start without me.”

Severin chuckles. Smoothing his face, he protests, “What's my incentive?”

Molly pushes away from the doorframe and stalks back to whisper in his ear.

Severin gulps and doesn't say a word as the pale woman sashays away.

He clutches his blond head in his hands. He's in trouble. He's completely and utterly under the thumb, totally smitten, and it's only been a few days.

And it's fucking brilliant, there is that too.

Molly sings softly to herself as she finds the painkillers and puts the kettle on. Waiting for it to boil, she supposes they ought to eat something too. Something quick, and maybe with complex carbs.

Everyone likes cheese, right? And if Severin does watch his diet to keep that toned, well, they've burned plenty this morning and she's not back at work until the late shift tomorrow.

Molly makes some plain cheese toasties and brings them up on the tray with everything else.

Severin groans into a pillow and sits up. “That smells so good.”

“Thought we ought to have a quick bite to eat,” Molly responds.

“You're the greatest,” Severin says, leaning up to give her a kiss before he attacks the food.

Molly smiles crookedly. “If you were hungry you could have said.”

“Didn't realise until I smelt it,” Severin admits. He leers playfully at her. “You had me quite distracted.”

Molly looks down and smiles at her food.

Severin gives her an interested look. “It fascinates me how you can be so cocky one minute and shy the next. You're gonna give me whiplash, Molly Hooper.”

She turns and rolls her eyes. “Oh, because I'm the only one in this bed with both a backbone and a soft side.”

Severin narrows his eyes at her without malice. “Did you just call me 'shy' woman? Because I might have to remind you of my manly virility and such.”

“You're scheduled for that anyway; it's why I'm feeding you,” Molly smirks into her crust.

Severin feigns a gasp. “Molly Hooper you wicked mastermind you.”

Molly laughs softly. “You're such an idiot Rinn.”

“Well yes, but I'm a good looking one, so what's your point?” the blond grins.

Molly finishes her lunch and swallows. “I'd rather you were sticking me with your point?”

“The _mouth_ on you, Shy Girl,” Severin chortles, dumping the lunch things to the side and leaning over Molly on strong arms for a kiss.

She pulls his hair lightly, a fond expression in her eyes.

“How'd you want it this time Boss?” Severin asks huskily.

Molly considers for a moment then gives a wicked grin that sends a jolt right past Severin's hips.

The not so mousy brunette extracts herself from under Severin and crosses to her door. She reaches for the dressing gown hanging from it and removes the sash.

“Oh I like where this is going,” Severin says in a very pleased tone.

“Oh your back, please, Pretty Boy,” Molly asserts.

She's still a little astonished at how easily the huge, handsome man complies, but she doesn't voice that. Instead she climbs over and ties Severin's warm, thick wrists to her headboard.

Severin's grin freezes a little as he recognises the quick release knot his new bed partner has just tied. Where the hell did this shy little minx pick that up?

He tests the bonds for no real reason than to show himself that he is indeed tied down, although he could tell by the feel that the restraint is secure.

“Guess I'm at your mercy now Boss,” Severin says with satisfaction.

Molly hums in agreement. “I'm thinking I could just leave you up here and enjoy the peace. Maybe watch Doctor Who and eat some cake.”

Severin's wide smile drops. “You wouldn't?”

Molly gives him a teasingly stern look. “Is there a reason why I shouldn't?”

 _Because you love me._ Too soon, too soon.

Severin swallows. “Because… um… I'll do anything you want? Uh… because I'll beg?”

Molly gives him an amused look. “What if I just want peace and quiet?” she teases.

Severin raises his brows pitifully and bites his lip. “I promise I'll be really, really good.”

Molly casts her gaze on her discarded underwear. “Maybe I should just gag you, Rinn.”

Severin's eyes widen and his cheeks heat. He nods eagerly.

Molly grins at him. “Awful slut.”

“All yours Boss,” Severin says happily.

Molly picks up the underwear and runs it through her fingers, smiling naughtily as she bundles it up and leans forward with it, pressing gently into Severin's eager mouth.

She leans forward to start kissing a path down the blond's body, then she hears a harsh knock on the front door downstairs.

She huffs frustratedly against Severin's naked chest. “If that's bloody Sherlock I'll kill him...”

Severin spits the fabric out reluctantly. “Might be Mary,” he says.

Molly checks Severin's wrists aren't too pinched then tilts her head thoughtfully. “Suppose.”

“You're… not untying me?”

Molly smiles and shakes her head, pushing her wet knickers back into Rinn's mouth. “And don't even think about yelling that I've got you locked up in here either.”

The brunette slides off of Severin and pulls on a vest and pajama bottoms.

Severin feels very comfortable with the situation and tries to hate himself for that a bit. It doesn't really work.

The smirk falls from Molly's face as she opens the door to Jim and a very battered, _claimed_ looking Sebastian.

Jim wrinkles his nose immediately. “Jesus, Molly, you smell awful.”

Molly's cheeks turn pink and she sniffs daintily near her shoulder. “No I don't..?”

Jim sighs and rolls his head back. “Like sex, Molls, you smell like sex.” He grimaces. “Oh God, you smell like sex with Rinn. Vile.”

“Do you have _any_ manners, Jim?” Molly snaps.

He looks a little taken aback at her tone.

Molly crosses her arms. “Was there a reason you came by, boys?”

Jim blinks. “Thought we should talk,” he says kind of meekly.

Molly nods more approvingly at the tone. “Living room,” she says firmly, tossing her head.

They nod and step inside, Molly closing the door behind them.

Jim looks around the room. “Where's Toby?”

“Out hunting,” Molly says.

“ _More importantly_ where is my brother?” Sebastian asks in a scratchy voice.

Molly blanches, too uneasy to even feel sympathy for Sebastian's sorry state.

The expression seems to concern both men considerably.

Molly holds up a restraining hand. “Relax, he's fine.”

“That's not what your face says,” Sebastian says uneasily.

Molly swallows. “He's fine; he's upstairs.”

Knowing Sebastian's not in much position to shout for the time being, Jim calls out Severin's name loudly.

Nothing. No way is Severin drawing attention to himself.

“He… probably can't respond,” Molly says a little weakly.

“What?” 

Before Sebastian can even get a word out from between his abused lips, Jim's small frame is haring upstairs, one hand on his gun.

Sebastian gives Molly a confused look, then gestures for her to climb the stairs too. Little Molly Hooper wouldn't possibly hurt Rinn… and she didn't look threatened when she came to the door…

Smelling like… Oh. Sebastian slows. Of course.

“You really don't have to go in there!” Molly calls.

The exclamation gives Severin a little warning, but it's not enough time to really do anything as Jim stops short in the open doorway.

Severin spits Molly's knickers out quickly, cheeks burning brightly.

“A bit tied up at the moment, I see,” Jim drawls. No one misses the relieved slump to his shoulders, but then he's crossing his arms and sauntering towards the bed.

Severin draws his legs up a little, really not enjoying the vampire grin on his employer's face.

“Aren't you pretty?” Jim smirks.

Severin doesn't comment.

Sebastian approaches the bedroom reluctantly. “ _Jim._ ” 

Jim licks his lips slowly at his lover's tone. “Tell me Tiger, are you really already forgetting your place, hmm?”

Sebastian presses his sore lips together, his shoulders rankling at the unfair scolding.

Molly walks up behind them, slapping Jim firmly on the back of the neck and making his teeth snap together. She vaults onto the bed and unknots Severin's bindings swiftly, muttering an awkward apology.

Severin gives her a reassuring peck on the cheek and grimaces at Jim.

Jim tastes the blood from his own bitten cheek in astonishment. “What was that for?” he asks Molly petulantly. 

Molly hands Severin his bottoms and scowls at Jim. “He's mine; you don't get to embarrass him.”

Severin freezes for an instant then looks in surprise at the woman standing protectively in front of him. Sebastian exchanges a small, approving look with his brother.

“But that's what I _do_ ,” Jim says with slightly wounded brown eyes. He's too shocked still to be angry.

“It's a wonder you have any friends,” Molly chides.

“I don't have friends,” Jim retort snippily. “I have employees. No free will involved.”

Molly snorts derisively. “Because that's healthy. When was the last time someone told you off when you deserved it?”

Jim scowls and tilts his chin. “Sebastian tore into me the other day,” he says edgily.

Molly trails her gaze over Sebastian's bruised appearance. “How did that go?”

“He slept on the couch,” Sebastian says disloyally.

Jim frowns further as his cheeks heat. He is aware it is vivid in comparison to his typically waxy pallor.

Molly nods approvingly, eyes narrowed strictly at Jim.

The short man crossed his arms in discomfort and irritation. “If you're all quite done...”

“Not remotely,” Molly says sharply. “You came to talk, didn't you? So let's get out of my _bedroom_ and the four of us will talk.”

“Yes, Mummy,” Sebastian says, purely to rile his lover. Jim glares.

Molly sits down on the couch without bothering with hospitality. “What did you want Jim?”

Jim looks down and bites his lip, supremely irritated that his words have mutinied. 

Sebastian feels a twinge of sympathy and slides his arm gingerly around Jim's shoulders. The short brunet looks up gratefully at the touch.

“Since when was I that difficult to talk to?” Molly asks with a bit less bite. She pulls Severin down beside her.

Sebastian rubs Jim's scalp soothingly. “Must be afraid of getting his little ears boxed, Hooper.”

“Ha fucking ha,” Jim says very quietly.

Molly considers. The four of them will fit on the couch together if she occupies Severin's lap, and she doubts that he'll mind. She gets up and herds the couple over. “Come on.”

Sebastian moves the cushions to sit down and his brother gives him a look that suggests teasing will come later, when Moriarty is in less of a vulnerable mood. Molly brushes her elbow against Jim's arm once he is squeezed in between the Moran brothers. 

“What's wrong, Jim?” Molly asks.

He looks away, scowling at his small hands, but doesn't pull away from her touch.

The clack of the cat door makes Jim's tight posture ease a bit and he gives a soft, genuine smile as Toby jumps into his lap. An intelligent cat, Toby snuggles Jim protectively.

Molly gives them a soft look. “Right, talking can wait until later, okay?”

Jim nods, cuddling the cat close and not even glaring warningly at anyone about it.

Molly presses her lips together and shoots the brothers concerned looks over Jim's head. Sebastian shrugs, biting down on a wince at the motion.

Molly leans forward and picks up a remote. “Sorry boys, you're just going to have to put up with this for a while.”

Jim looks at her quickly.

Molly pulls up 'Glee' and picks an episode. Jim presses his lips together. “I can't stand you, Molls.” He sighs. “Turn it up, will you?”

The brothers give him a look. “Shut up,” Jim bites.

Molly cuffs him with the remote. “Turn it up _please_ ,” she rebukes.

Jim presses his chin against Toby's warm skull. “Please,” he says reluctantly.

She kisses his forehead and obliges. Sebastian's surprised to find he's not jealous at all, even when Jim wriggles closer to Hooper in response.

Sebastian gives Molly an approving look over Jim's head. She nods easily and snuggles in to Severin as she turns to watch the program. Toby purrs loudly.


	20. Chapter 20

Comforted by his favourite show and the blatant love Toby shows him, Jim slowly starts to feel a bit more sure of himself. He doesn't exactly feel like himself, but then he has worked so hard to avoid ever feeling uncomfortable like this ever again.

Awkward. Jealous. Unwanted.

He's Jim Moriarty for fuck's sake not a lonely little boy.

Jim works his jaw with a frown and stares at his hands. Killer's hands. Puny, sickly pale, always cold hands.

“Oh honestly,” Molly says at last. She turns down the television's volume, forewarning an imminent conversation.

Jim's expression twitches as she turns and fixes him with a look. Always too clever for what she seemed. Part of why he likes her, but it jangles his raw nerves now.

“Jim,” Molly says. “Time to spill.”

Jim leans back into the couch, drawing a hiss from Sebastian as he brushes against the broad man's injuries, and clings to Toby, who glares protectively at the others.

Sebastian moves a calloused hand to the back of Jim's head gently, rubbing circles with his thumb into the dip right at the base of the small skull.

“Jimmy, I'm listening,” Molly adds.

Jim presses his lips together. Turns his head away like he doesn't fill buildings with semtex for the fun of it.

Molly feigns a sigh that for some reason makes Jim's shoulders tense.

“Well Jim, if you won't tell us what's wrong we're just going to have to work it out of you,” Molly states.

Jim freezes and turns to look questioningly at Sebastian, whom he can feel nodding in agreement.

“But...” Jim whispers.

Artemis blinks at his bugs and leans closer. He's had suspicions for a while that Moran can put Jim in his place even easier than Butler can him, but… Molly Hooper? 

Sebastian takes his chin gently. “Are you going to tell us what's wrong?”

Jim bites his lip and shakes his head quickly.

“Boss?” Severin says mildly.

Jim and Molly both turn. That makes Jim's insides twist further, like he's replaceable.

“Employer Boss,” Severin says with a small, awkward smile. “We've got your back, you know? You're safe.”

Jim narrows his eyes unconvincingly. “I'm not scared, you simpleton.”

The brunet yelps as Molly pinches his ear for an instant. “I care about how you feel, Jim, but I've already warned you about being respectful.”

It didn't really hurt anything but his pride, but Jim feels his gut clench at the rebuke.

Artemis squints at the screen, disturbed that Molly might be Jim's Holly. Perhaps this is too private to spy on...

Sebastian presses a kiss on the crown of Jim's skull and looks over at Molly. “Come on; I know what to do.”

Jim turns and scowls. “And what's your plan, Smart- ...Sebastian?”

Sebastian blinks and his split, purple lips twist into a small smile at the quickness of the lesson. “To make you feel better,” Sebastian explains.

“I'm fine,” Jim grunts unpersuasively.

Sebastian raises his cut brow warningly. “You know I don't like it when you lie to me.”

Jim swallows. “Bastian,” he mutters in a tight, embarrassed voice, “wait 'til we get home if you're gonna...”

“No,” Sebastian says, tilting his head towards the others, “I'd trust my kid brother with my life, and if you didn't trust Hooper you wouldn't have left her alive, and you wouldn't have come here to tell her she was right the other day. So if I have to tell you off, Boss, they can hear it.”

Jim blanches a little and widens his eyes. He puts a slightly pleading lilt to his voice as he softly whines, “Se- _bast_ -ian...”

The sniper shakes his head firmly and gives Jim a small push. “On your feet.”

Jim swallows, very conscious of Molly and Rinn's eyes on him as he peels himself off of the couch and turns to face Sebastian. Jim tilts his chin to suggest challenge, but his shoulders have slumped feebly and he clutches Toby like a teddy bear.

“Clothes off,” Sebastian orders.

Artemis pushes the lid down on the laptop quickly. No...

Jim takes a small step back, although something starts to waken in his chest, toying with that unwanted feeling. If Sebastian's going to punish Jim, he'll do so possessively, never leaving any doubt that Jim belongs to Sebastian just as Sebastian belongs to Jim. If Sebastian decides to … do something else… with Jim, it will also be an act of claiming.

Either would feel humiliating in front of Molly and Severin.

But… both options would also perhaps make Jim feel a bit (or a lot) better, like Sebastian said.

Jim reluctantly places Toby down on his vacated seat to remove his suit jacket. He folds it and hands it nervously to Sebastian, who places it on the arm of the couch and gives Jim a look to continue.

Jim shrugs off his holster, checks the safety is on, and places his gun on the table. He closes his eyes and begins on the buttons of his shirt.

Severin notes the rising heat in Molly's gaze and smiles, kissing her neck.

Jim folds the shirt and Sebastian adds it to the pile.

Jim toes out of his shoes -brogues, because he's not the one who has to clean the blood out- and his hands almost tremble as he reaches for his belt. Fumbling with the buckle, Jim unzips himself and slides his suit trousers down his slim hips.

Sebastian reaches out and takes the trousers, folded not to mess up the press lines too much.

Jim curls a thin arm around to clutch the inside of his own elbow. Then he remembers everyone present has already seen him naked, so he reaches reluctantly for the hem of his undershirt, trying not to think too hard as he pulls it over his head.

Sebastian presses his sore lips together tightly at that. Jim has already confessed that he actually had bedded (been bedded by?) Hooper, but the proof is striking as Jim exposes his scarred torso without explicit prompting.

“Keep going?” Jim asks softly, shoulders tight and head somewhat lowered.

“Come here first,” Sebastian says, pulling Jim down for a comforting kiss that quickly becomes possessive _because Jim took his undershirt off in front of Hooper_.

Settling Jim's small frame in his lap despite the pain everywhere, Sebastian turns to Molly. “Where shall we start?”

Jim stiffens. What?

Molly gives a wry half smile. “I'd suggest putting Toby in another room with something of Jim's. A cat tongue in the middle of something is fairly offputting.”

Jim lifts Toby and his undershirt without needing further direction. Sebastian isn't sure how he feels about the likelihood that Jim has done that before.

Hating himself a little, Artemis opens the screen back up. Earphones in, he stares at the scene skeptically. Where has Moriarty gone?

“Which bit do you want?” Severin asks.

“Arse,” Sebastian says easily.

Severin grins. “Jim's prick or his mouth, Boss?”

Molly smirks again. “You're a bad boy,” she murmurs, leaning over for a kiss. “Either.”

Sebastian stands as Jim returns and gives the shorter man a reassuring kiss. “Pants down, love.”

Jim kisses back needfully and pulls Sebastian's wrists close, encouraging the large hands to remove his boxers themselves.

He feels a prickle along the back of his neck at the knowledge Molly and Rinn are watching. Can see his body.

Sebastian strongarms Jim lightly over to the others and kneels behind Jim. The brunet hisses in surprised understanding.

Severin drops to his knees before Jim and helps Molly over his broad shoulders so she can take Jim's mouth in her own.

Jim whimpers without any effort to hide it.

“We've got you, Jimmy,” Molly says.

He nods and accepts the kiss, the misery in his chest beginning to fall away.

“You're loved _deeply_ ,” Sebastian agrees, emphasising the asserting with a firm, broad stroke of his tongue.

“...I'm just looking for a raise,” Severin teases cheekily, bending to run his mouth along Jim in the way he's walked in on his brother doing a hundred times before.

Artemis' heart hammers. He wants to tear his eyes away but he can't.

Eventually Jim breaks the kiss with Molly so he can pull down the clingy vest and brush his soft lips against the breasts that have been poking through the thin material.

She strokes his own skin, pulling Jim close and tracing soothing patterns on scarred and unmarked skin alike.

Sebastian's going to make Jim's legs give out, and if the short man falls back onto the blond's shoulders they'll all four fall down like London's bridge.

But maybe not, because Molly's gripping Jim's hair hard like she used to, and Severin is holding him up strongly.

Jim groans wantonly, feeling utterly consumed and worshipped and-

It's perfect.

It's too much.

Severin is swallowing, and Jim is screaming, and he's not crying, he's not, but it's perfect and he's safe and he's wanted and it feels so… fucking… goooood...

Sebastian is leaning up now, his arousal pressed hard against Jim's naked skin, and the brunet is certain that as soon as they get home Sebastian's going to throw him face down on their bed. Or… maybe they'll only wait as long as Jim getting his cheek and elbows burned by Molly Hooper's carpet.

Jim's lips are quivering and his fingers tingle. He feels floaty. “Fuck me,” he pleads, uncertain who he's talking to. All of them, possibly.

Artemis slams the laptop down again. Nope, nope he can't watch this. He's never going to be able to look that criminal in the eyes ever again.

Molly pulls away a little. “Oh, not yet. You're going to earn that, Jim.”

Jim makes a raw noise of protest. He jumps as Sebastian's large hand slaps against his naked skin, leaving a perfect, red handprint.

Jim hushes.

Sebastian can be very plausibly frightening even with a wide collar of vivid lovebites around his painful throat and an inability to move without aching. He pulls Jim back by the hair, breath hot on Jim's exposed throat. “Reward later, little boy. Time to explain yourself.”

The brunet's shoulders slump, but he knows when he's beaten, and Rinn is already disentangling himself, lips swollen and shiny wet red.

“It… You've fixed it now,” Jim says. “I don't feel… the way I did earlier.”

“If we don't know what's hurting you we can't prevent it,” Rinn says reasonably.

Jim sighs. “It's ridiculous,” he says awkwardly.

“Your feelings aren't ridiculous to us,” Molly says firmly.

Sebastian holds Jim in tight promise. “You want your reward or not, Kitten?” he whispers in Jim's ear, nuzzling the skin hypnotisingly.

Jim bites his lip. “I just felt low...”

Molly pinches a nipple. “Specifically, Jimmy.”

Jim's breathing hitches. As he hesitates, Sebastian runs his hand warningly over Jim's smacked bottom.

Jim considers then lets his chest deflate as he confesses. “I just felt… alienated. J...jealous.”

Jim looks up quickly and glares. “I swear Molly, if you tell anyone about this you're dead.”

Severin grins. “You trust us not to tell?”

Jim narrows his eyes. “The next car I put you in could go into a river, asshole.”

Sebastian pointedly gives the brunet a few firm spanks, trying not to be amused at how Jim squirms and curses.

“Why did you feel alienated and jealous?” Sebastian asks, love in his tone.

Jim bites his lip and fights the urge to rub his sore cheeks in front of the audience. “Because...”

“Kitten,” Sebastian growls.

Jim flinches at the use of the intimate nickname somewhere less than entirely private. “Felt left out. And bad,” he mumbles, inwardly wondering what happened to his diverse vocabulary.

Sebastian curls a possessive arm around Jim's front. “You've spent days beating and fucking your claim into me, how could you possibly still feel jealous?”

“Just did. It hurt,” Jim mutters. “And… I felt left out of ...yous… and Molly dumped me, and I annoyed her, and it all just...”

Sebastian pulls over a willing Molly and watches with satisfaction as she kisses that frustrated, huffy, lonely, sad little look off of Jim's face.

“I tell you off when you deserve it,” Molly says. “That doesn't mean I don't like you or don't care. It means I want you to improve your _behaviour_.”

“You feel safe when I tell you off, don't you?” Sebastian murmurs, kissing Jim's scalp.

Jim smiles ruefully. “Mostly.”

Sebastian grins. “Just the same when Hoop- when Molls here puts you down a peg. Okay?”

Artemis glares at the laptop he has slammed closed. He didn't need to see any of that. 

He notices Juliet in the doorway. “Seen something you shouldn't Fairy Rose?”


	21. Chapter 21

Artemis very, very, very reluctantly continues with his plan and arranges a conversation with Jim. It's a running joke that Artemis rarely has a Plan B, relying that his genius is (falsely) infallible, but he tells himself there was little likelihood that he could have been prepared for what he has recently illicitly witnessed.

He cannot seriously have been expected to plan for 'cannot imagine looking Jim Moriarty in the eyes after seeing him taken apart wantonly by a woman and a pair of brothers.'

Artemis sits in a position that announces some of his discomfort and scowls at Juliet's lack of sympathy.

_'Well that's what you get for watching when you're not invited to.'_

Artemis grimaces.

And then he stands, catching sight of Moriarty's distinctive walk.

Artemis twitches, reaching out to shake hands, then remembering with horror the last circumstances he has seen Jim in (because he may never spy on the man again), and tries to pull back before the gesture is noticed.

Too late. Jim curls his lip and shakes Artemis' hand firmly, presumably interpreting Artemis' reluctance as poor social skills or youthful awkwardness. Perhaps even intimidation.

Jim holds the contact for slightly longer than necessary, not having grown out of games yet (if ever) then pulls away and takes a seat.

Jim frowns for a second as he looks over Fowl's face. He has a strange misplaced memory of the teen looking at him with wide, mismatched eyes, one blue, one hazel, and where the hell had that come from?

Artemis' eyes are blue. Cool, icy blue, not straying far from Sebastian's own hue.

Jim's thrumming fingers still their idle tattoo on the tablecloth.

Cold, clever blue eyes in the pasty, pale face of a dark-haired, arrogant Dublin boy. A boy in Jim's image with Sebastian's eyes. And obviously not Jim's lack of stature.

Christ, he's not even forty and Jim is getting broody and sentimental.

He would rather tear his _own_ eyes out than let Sebastian know he has started imagining what their progeny might look like.

Jim does his best to absolutely not soften his gaze at Fowl.

Artemis feels a wave of unease. Moriarty is usually a smug, sarky, teasing dickhead from the moment they meet, but… not today.

If Artemis didn't know better he would have called the look on Jim's face _fond_. It doesn't even seem like a game either.

Maybe it's a hangover from meekly submitting to the attentions of three other people. Artemis has heard of powerful men subjugating themselves in private, but Moriarty…

Artemis really needs to stop thinking about Jim's private life. It's not as if Artemis has much understanding of how other people take pleasure in things.

And it's really about time they _spoke_.

“I presume you called me here for a reason...” Jim prompts.

Artemis looks up reluctantly and Jim is not at all used to seeing that uneasy look on the typically snotty brat's face. Not that Fowl is a little boy anymore, but he was always kind of… sulky. Jim is aware of the irony in his assessment.

“I have some confessions to make,” Artemis says warily.

Jim blinks and scruitinises the awkward, guilty little boy posture seeping into Fowl's mannerisms. In any other circumstances Jim would arch a brow and make a daddy joke meant to humiliate, but he really can't now. Not now that it's abruptly occurred to him that Fowl doesn't just have his _temperament_.

“You have my attention, Fowl,” Jim says. Doesn't he just?

Artemis stretches his hands out before him in his suit sleeves, glancing dependently at Butler sitting at a nearby table with the bigger Moran. “I made a miscalculation which impacted you. Twice, actually.”

“Brave boy to tell me,” Jim drawls.

Artemis is so occupied by his thoughts that he barely bristles at 'boy.' Jim notices. Artemis tries to gather his thoughts, as though he's not rehearsed this conversation over and over.

“So your first mistake?” Jim prompts.

“A… _deep underground_ group had started to take notice of the Pascal Hervé collection,” Artemis says with a dry mouth.

Jim gives the young man a very stern look, warning him not to continue. “I really hope you're not going to tell me what it sounds like you're going to tell me, Artemis Fowl II.”

Artemis swallows. “I couldn't prevent it,” he says. “They'd infiltrated.”

Jim sways his head contemplatively. “There was no one else on the feeds.”

“That you're aware of,” Artemis says.

Jim shoots him a glare, posture that of a threatening older brother. “I'm not often told I'm wrong.”

“You're not often knocked out hard enough to lose hours worth of memories either,” Artemis mumbles.

Jim stills and raises his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“Much later,” Artemis says. “They went after you...”

Jim narrows his eyes and leans forwards dangerously. “What?”

“You don't remember anything?” Artemis questions softly.

Jim frowns. “Did you wear contacts?” he asks. “Or… heterochromia?”

Artemis' expression lightens. “Blue and brown.”

“Hazel.”

“Yes,” Artemis agrees.

“You're not wearing contacts now,” Jim says.

Artemis cannot say that the eyes he wears now are an accurate copy of his originals, so he instead states, “These are give or take the blue I was born with.”

“You were scared,” Jim adds, suspicious of how he knows this.

“Has been known to happen,” Artemis says.

“But you couldn't have,” Jim protests. “It doesn't make sense for you to be there. Not then...”

“When?” Artemis prompts.

Jim rubs his face, getting a strange tingle of satisfaction as he pulls the puzzling wisps of memory out for inspection. Perhaps he shouldn't waste so much time goading Sherlock into play. Fowl might be more suitable.

“You disappeared,” Jim muses, “without your precious bodyguard. Juliet told Jamie that he barely held on. You...” 

“I was gone and I came back. Not the only one who's cheated death here.”

Jim glances at Butler. “Nearly broke the heart under that Kevlar.”

Artemis looks guilty. “Your boy wasn't much better when you were gone,” he retorts softly.

Jim swallows. He's extremely lucky and eternally grateful that Sebastian didn't manage to 'follow' him.

Although Bastian didn't half put Jim in his place afterwards. Changed their dynamic. Possibly for the better.

Unquestionably for the better.

Jim doesn't want to talk about this.

“So are you going to tell me who had the audacity to knock my memory from me, or do you expect me to guess?”

“You like puzzles, don't you?” Artemis says. Then his expression turns wary. Grim. “I'm not sure you'd believe me if I told you...”


	22. Chapter 22

Mary is used to a lot of things other people would find unusual, and she is used to Jim's unpredictability.

She is not entirely surprised when a half-naked Severin lets her into Molly's home. The vivid new marks on his throat look far nicer than the fading bruises on his torso and face.

Mary _is_ surprised to see a slightly groggy Jim on Molly's floor. She is astonished that he is even less clothed than Severin, and comfortably half-buried under Sebastian _and_ Molly whilst 'Glee' plays on almost silently in the background.

Both blond men turn pointed expressions on Jim. Before Mary can say anything, the pasty little brunet huffs, no real malice in the noise, and leans up a little to say, “I suppose I owe you an apology too.”

There is a limit to how many consecutive shocks one can face before beginning to doubt one's mental faculties. Mary is approaching that limit. “Excuse me?”

Jim drops back onto the carpet. “No: once was more than enough.”

Sebastian gives Jim a mildly warning look, but his legs are still relaxed tangled with Jim's, so the brunet is not immediately concerned.

“Calling a truce, Mary,” Jim mumbles against Sebastian's cozy, bruised arm. He strokes his small hand absently over Molly's hair with a gentleness that makes Mary feel a little mentally whiplashed.

Hypothetically, when the ex you broke up with after three dates pops over you don't typically consent to a foursome. Unless you're sweet, interesting Molly Hooper, it seems.

Mary sighs and steps through to the kitchen to help herself to something alcoholic. She's sure Molly won't mind, and since the woman is sleeping so peacefully on Jim's stomach, Mary does not want to ask.

“Would someone care to catch me up?” Mary asks dryly. She kicks off her heels and pads over to the couch in her tan stockings, settling on the seat with her glass and a bottle of spirits.

“Don't bother offering to share, will you?” Severin scoffs, reaching over.

Mary holds the bottle out of his reach for a moment before quickly surrendering it. Too mentally drained to play. And yet...

She casts her gaze over Sebastian's mottled form, lingering with deliberate obviousness on the scabbed red letters of Jim's name carved in large print across Sebastian's visible butt cheek.

The blond considers pulling back a leg to cover himself, but it's far too comfortable wrapped around Jim and Molly. 

“Nothing you haven't seen before,” he says gruffly.

Mary lifts her hand, letting her ring catch the light from the window. “Some people chose to exchange these instead.”

“Jim doesn't like rings,” Severin comments. He flutters his fingers. “Germs.”

Jim pouts cutely from the floor. “Don't need rings to know I'm his and he's mine.”

Sebastian presses a smile against Jim's head. “Don't get him started. My little milk bottle has an obsession with experimenting. Likes his scars as red and raised as possible, vain thing.”

“The special ones,” Jim grumbles.

Sebastian rubs his healing nose against Jim's, amused that the brunet is still sleepy enough to permit it.

“Is there a reason why everyone's so happy?” Mary asks, rubbing her forehead.

Severin snorts lecherously.

Mary rolls her eyes. “Not that.”

“Hooper persuaded us to play nice with each other,” Sebastian say.

“The remarkable Molly Hooper,” Mary says.

“That she is,” Severin agrees.

Jim smiles in agreement.

Leaning back on his rough elbows, Sebastian looks from Mary to Jim. “I believe you have things you were to tell our friend Mary.”

Jim gives a disgusted sigh. “ _Afterglow_ , you monster.”

“I'm sure you'll have many more,” Sebastian says dryly.

Jim tries to be sparing in admitting Artemis's confession. Sebastian prods him in playful warning at first, but eventually his eyes narrow and he intersperses Jim's reluctant briefing with fierce growls that make Jim's belly tight.

Mary considers the fresh information. She holds out her glass for Severin to refill. 

“Whilst we're on the subject of your questionable behaviour, Jimmy darling, I suppose we ought examine those threats you made about my husband.”

Jim takes one glance at Sebastian's unimpressed blue eyes and grumbles, “I won't tell John.”

The blond clears his throat.

“ _Or_ hurt him to get at Sherlock.”

“Is that going to be practical for you?” Mary asks archly. 

“It seems it will have to be,” Jim says darkly. 

“Now if I could only get you to stop playing with Holmes I'd have the best behaved little madman,” Sebastian comments dryly.

Jim grimaces. He can't seem to keep himself from toying with Sherlock, but mutters that he'll be careful when doing so.

Jim looks cranky. Decidedly put out. And so does Sebastian.

Mary meets Severin's eyes and smiles. “Well I don't want good,” she sings softly. 

“And I don't want good enough,” he joins in instantly. 

She continues, “I want can't eat-” 

“Can't sleep-” 

“Without you-” 

“Love,” Severin croons, an amused smirk on his face. Sebastian glares, but he can't help humming along instinctively as they continue, to Jim's disgust. 

“Front porch and once more kiss-” 

“It doesn't make sense to anybody else-” 

“Who cares if you're all I think about-” 

Jim narrows his eyes and puts a little steel in his voice as he orders, “Knock it off.” 

Severin waggles his brows as though he is not already sporting bruises then continues, “I've searched the world and I know now-” 

“It ain't right if you ain't lost your mind-”

“Guys stop teasing Jim, would you,” Molly says mildly. 

They glance over, the tune drifting away in guilt that they appear to have woken her. Jim looks a little put out to have Molly fighting his battles for him against his own employees but mutters some gratitude anyway because he is not a child. She kisses the dip under his ribs softly.

“Reasoning for the song choice?” Molly asks after a while. 

“Someone we were stationed with for a while used to sing it all the time,” Sebastian mutters.

“When he wasn't getting any from his CO,” Severin adds. Sebastian narrows his eyes. 

“Very unprofessional conduct for a colonel, Moran,” Mary says playfully.

Molly's mouth falls into a little 'oh' of understanding. “That was why you left?”

“Partly,” Sebastian says gruffly.

“He's not good at doing as he's told, when he's told,” Jim says with a tinge of bitterness.

Sebastian snorts. “Like another little fucker I know.”

Jim tilts his chin. “I am your _boss_ Moran.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Get many of your employees' names put on your skin, do you?”

“I could add Rinn's next if you like,” Jim snips.

Molly nips Jim's ear. “Severin is _my_ Moran. Play with your own.”

Jim crosses his arms. “But he's being so _bossy_ Molls.”

The others laugh.

Jim glowers.

“Jimmy, you're the bossiest person here.”

“I resent that,” Jim protests.

Molly rolls her eyes and stands, pulling her top back over herself as she pads towards Severin. He pulls her comfortably into his lap, shifting to keep her weight off of his sorest parts.

“I've missed this bickering,” Mary says.

“We've missed you,” Rinn says.

“We have actually,” Jim says with a gruff note of sincerity. 

Mary's lips twitch.

“Have you heard yourself recently?” Sebastian teases Jim. “I think you're going soft.”

Jim leans close and mutters into Sebastian's ear. “I don't want easy, I want crazy...”

 _Clack_.

Toby returns from his hunt, ignoring everyone else, and purrs as he proudly carries a large magpie directly to Jim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'I Want Crazy' - Hunter Hayes.


	23. Chapter 23

Richard quivers and paces, knowing perfectly well he is being observed by a number of Jim's employees, then reluctantly runs across the street and approaches Jim's building. The current one the criminal has been using as a home.

The security know damn better than to smirk at Mr Moriarty's baby brother, but there is an arrogant amusement in their mostly dead eyes as they permit Richard entry.

Richard shouldn't be here.

He's not allowed to be here. Not without forewarning, because Jim doesn't like for dear little Richard to walk in on nasty things that make the younger twin uncomfortable.

And Jim's tastes have always run nasty.

Although he does have a soft underbelly. Very, very deep under the darkness.

Richard creeps upstairs anyway, cringing at the cameras that have probably forewarned Jim by now.

He's gonna be cross…

But Jim hasn't swung by in forever, and it makes Richard anxious.

It usually means Jim is working hard, distracted by a project.

Sometimes it doesn't, and that's the only thing that gives Richard the backbone to creep into Jim's home without explicit invitation to.

It's quiet upstairs, so Richard slinks nervously towards Jim's study, expecting the quiet to mean Jim is working, and that approaching him is a risk to Richard's wellbeing.

The study is empty, and that makes Richard blink owlishly in surprise.

More curious now than nervous, Richard wanders the living space, finding it odd not to find at least Severin or Sebastian even if Jim out busy somewhere.

Apparently no one's home.

Richard heads through to the kitchen and helps himself to something to eat, picking absently at it as he carries the plate through to the sofa and drops down on it.

The brunet switches on the rarely used television, rolling his eyes as it presents a rerun of one of Richard's old shows: a children's programme that typically makes Jim's lips twitch before the man gives in to bouts of teasing.

Richard finds something else to watch, distracting himself with the screen to make it easier to eat. Pushing the plate onto a side table when he's done, Richard stretches out comfortably and waits.

And waits.

And naps.

And waits.

And gets up, washing up his plate, and still no Jim or Morans or anyone at all lending life to the enormous sparse space.

Richard could snoop, but he really would rather not.

Eventually he pulls himself up and reluctantly goes to find a guard.

“Where's my brother?” Richard asks a little sleepily.

“He's not working today.”

Richard rubs his face. “Fine, but where..?”

The guard confers with someone else over a headset.

He gives Richard an address that the actor memories easily.

“Should I call a car and a minder?” the guard asks.

Richard makes a face. “If it's safe enough that I'm allowed the address what do I need a minder for?”

“Suit yourself, but it better not be my skin if the boss doesn't like it.”

“I'll be sure to mention your concern,” Richard says, not quite sounding sarcastic but meaning it.

He stretches. “I'll walk.”


	24. Chapter 24

John is a bit bewildered by the sudden, strong friendship his wife seems to have developed with Molly Hooper.

It rather surprises him, because Mary is gunpowder and secrets and a killer's smile, and Molly is…

Well, Molly isn't, but she does like dangerous people, and she's devoted, so maybe it's that.

But John wishes they weren't bonding, because as much as he doesn't want to admit it to himself…

He absolutely hates that Sherlock relied on Molly for the Fall, not him. Not John.

Molly Hooper.

Molly Hooper who thought it was perfectly fine and dandy not to once bother to even _insinuate_ to a grieving John that oh by the way _Sherlock Holmes is not dead_.

John tries not to be bitter about it, but he is.

Still, he is a grown up, and if his wife is going to befriend Molly then John supposes he ought to work on forgiving the mousy, lying, brunette. So he makes his way to the pathologist's address, hoping they can have a civil discussion.

Although perhaps he's not as angry with her as he thought, because John feels his heart catch in his mouth as he spies a familiar, short figure trundling down the street that leads to Molly's home.

Moriarty. Jim motherfucking Moriarty.

John clenches his fists and feels adrenaline course through his body. That bastard.

Right.

John has barrelled into Moriarty before he can even pause to think about how potentially dangerous this choice of action is.

Moriarty lets out a startled gasp and then he's writhing, pushing at John's sweater and breathing heavily.

Acting panicked and meek, like he doesn't kill children and little old ladies for kicks.

John growls and wraps his fists tighter in Moriarty's clothing.

“L-l-let me _go_!” Richard protests.

“Not a chance,” John snarls, and his eyes are cold and his nostrils are flared and he really should just put this sick fuck down right this second…

But then the slippery little fucker has just kicked John, and the retired army medic is left gripping a ridiculous cardigan.

Richard bolts towards the address he has memorised, weaving a little in case there's a gun pointed at his back. 

Suddenly Richard considers. He wouldn't normally consider leadings enemies to Jim, and that is exactly what he is doing in his panic.

But Jim and the Morans are much more equipped to deal with this sort of thing. Not Richard.

The frazzled little brunet checks the numbers on the doors around him and hares up a set of steps, hammering hard on the thick paint of the old door.

_Come on, come on, come on; open the door Jimmy... ___

__John Watson is approaching, absolutely not caring that he has a gun drawn in a public place, and Richard thinks he might just be sick._ _

__“JIM!” he yells. “It's me, _let me in_!”_ _

__John slows a little at the scream. What fucking game is this now?_ _

__He has the barrel of his gun trained on Moriarty, climbing the stone steps slowly as the brunet trembles and presses his small frame into the building._ _

__The front door swings open loudly, and Richard squeezes his eyes shut as he lets out a deep breath of relief. Not that he's safe yet, but Jimmy will _punish_ him, not _shoot_ him._ _

__John stares at the two men. Stark likenesses with Moriarty's face._ _

__Jim assesses the situation quickly, glaring harshly at the younger brunet._ _

__“I'll deal with you shortly,” Jim snarls at his twin, making Richard cringe._ _

__Jim focuses his deadly gaze on John Watson. “I suggest you let my brother go this instant, or I will make a jigsaw puzzle from the leather of your hide and send your loved ones across the continents to find each pieces if they're so inclined.”_ _

__John swings the gun around to the spittingly angry man in the door way. That one's the one he wants to shoot first._ _

__“Jim,” Mary interrupts, pushing through the door frame. “Please, let me handle this.”_ _

__John almost drops his gun._ _

__A large hand reaches around Jim and drags Richard inside roughly before moving to step in front of Jim with a dangerous warning look._ _


	25. Chapter 25

“...Mary?”

“Hi John,” Mary sighs.

The man readjusts his suddenly sweaty grip on his gun. “Are… Are you alright?”

“I'm fine, love,” Mary states. “Lower your weapon and come inside. I owe you an explanation.”

John blinks quickly. “But Moriarty...”

Mary throws a mild glare at Jim over her shoulder. “Has only just promised me that he'll behave himself around you, so if you stop threatening his kid brother I'm sure he'll keep his promise.”

“He… is a criminal, Mary,” John reminds her.

“He's also spared my neck a few times. Stand down, Watson,” Mary responds.

As John considers he hears Molly's voice. “Boys, inside. Let them talk.”

Moriarty starts to turn inside with the other men -just like that- but he hesitates as Molly walks past onto the steps with Mary.

“John,” Molly says, “I know this all looks a bit surprising to you, but you're not in any danger. We've got a… truce going.”

“A truce,” John says skeptically. “With Jim Moriarty?”

“He's not all bad,” Molly says.

“He's a terrorist,” John spits.

“He's my friend,” Molly says firmly.

Mary smiles awkwardly. “Mine too, John, when I was younger. We… we've been sorting things out.”

“That _friend_ of yours tried to kill me! Almost killed Sherlock!” John retorts.

“Yes, well, I've scolded him about that,” Mary mumbles.

“'Scolded',” John scoffs. “You've scolded Moriarty, have you? Well that makes everything alright then!”

Jim clears his throat. “I respect your wife. We've come to an understanding about your safety.”

John pales. “Oh, God, Mary, what did you agree to do for him?”

“Nothing,” Mary says.

John narrows his eyes. “I'm your husband; don't _lie_ to-”

“She's not lying, Johnny Boy,” Jim drawls. 

John sneers. “And you just agreed to her out of the goodness of that black heart of yours did you?”

“I can be sentimental,” Jim sing songs. “ _Mary_ here was quite an asset to me, in our youth.”

John grits his teeth.

“Jimmy,” Molly says sharply, “you're not helping! Get inside, like I told you, right now.”

“I was just trying to help,” Jim pouts, but he blows John a kiss and saunters inside.

Molly slaps him. “Don't get smart.”

“Jesus, Molls, I've killed people for less,” Jim huffs.

“And yet we both know you won't kill me for that, so stop posturing and do as you are told,” Molly says sternly.

“And I'm the heartless one,” Jim jokes, but he obeys before he feels Molly's hand on him again. She's not as gentle as she looks.

John lowers his gun a little. “What's going on?”

Mary presses her lips together. “It's… complicated. Been an eventful few days.”

“I'm listening,” John says coolly, shoving his gun away.

“This might not be the best conversation to have outside,” Molly points out. “You could talk in my room if you want; I'll keep everyone else downstairs.”

John flicks his gaze to her. “Who all is in there?”

“Jim, his brother, his bodyguard, and Molly's boyfriend,” Mary says. “We could talk at home if...”

“No,” John says. “I might want to strangle Moriarty after I've heard what you have to say.”

“ _No fighting_ ,” Molly warns with a firmness John is unfamiliar with, then she gives Mary a reassuring smile and disappears inside.

Mary nods. So much for her plan of breaking this to John in small, easier to digest, fractions. She'll strangle Jim herself if John wants a divorce after this conversation.

“Come on,” Mary says quietly, and leads her husband inside, up to Molly's bedroom.

Meanwhile, Molly has walked in on Jim sharply berating his brother.

“Who's going to catch me up?” she sighs.

“This is Jim's twin, Richie,” Severin accommodates.

“Was worried that he hasn't seen us in a bit,” Sebastian adds.

“ _And could have gotten himself killed_!” Jim roars.

Richard cringes. “I- I'm sorry, Jimmy, I...”

Jim presses close furiously. “Watson could have blown your brains out you _fucking imbecile_.”

“Jim,” Molly warns.

The angry brunet snaps his head around. “Oh no,” he argues, “when I yell at my deserving fool of a brother it is _my_ business.”

Richard swallows.

Molly crosses her arms. “Haven't I told you to play nice?”

Jim's gaze burns warningly. “What's between my brother and I-”

“Jimmy,” Molly interrupts firmly. “Your brother's fine. He's safe. We're all fine. He was worried about you. Calm down.”

“I will not calm down!” Jim snarls.

The Moran brothers shift their weight uncomfortably. “Might be best to drop it, Hooper,” Sebastian says mildly.

“Jim and Richie usually work things out amongst themselves,” Severin adds warily.

Molly moves her hands to her hips. “Well not today. There has been more than enough fighting amongst ourselves.”

Jim glares. “This has _nothing_ to do with you, Molls.”

Molly lifts a hand indicating their surroundings. “Doesn't it?”

Jim bares his teeth. “You don't get it. This isn't just about Watson, it...”

Something in his tone makes Sebastian interrupt. “It what, Jim?”

Jim presses his lips together. “There are other dangers. More looming than the usual.”

Sebastian steps forwards somewhat menacingly. “Why don't I know, love?”

Jim shrinks a little. “I'm still processing it.”

“Jim,” Sebastian growls.

Jim swallows and crosses his arms defensively. “There… might be more to what Fowl said than what I mentioned.”

Sebastian drags Jim up by the collar. “How the fuck am I supposed to keep you safe if you keep pertinent information from me?”

“I'm… still deciding how… pertinent it _is_ ,” Jim mumbles.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sebastian snaps.

Jim's toes are barely grazing the carpet and he grimaces. “It means I am still in the process of recovering my memories and checking out the validity of Fowl's claims, but what I remember makes me… uneasy.”

“And you didn't think to mention that part because..?”

Jim frowns a little. “Because I'm not going to put you on high alert over vague _feelings_ , am I?”

Sebastian gives a put upon sigh. “You realise that your gut instinct evolved _purely_ to keep you safe?”

“Since when do I value feelings over logic?” Jim grumbles.

Sebastian rolls his eyes and puts Jim back on the floor, tugging Jim's shirt out of his trousers to slide warm fingers up to the scars that mark Jim as _Sebastian's_. “You'd think having it carved into your skin would be a prominent enough reminder,” the blond comments a little sourly.

Jim squirms at the touch, trying to yank his skirt back down but having his wrists caught in Sebastian's far stronger hands. “That's _different_ ,” Jim whines.

Sebastian fixes the brunet with a stern look. “You have zero sense of self preservation _so you need to tell me_ when there is any possibility you might be at risk.”

Jim sighs. “Sebastian, you know I'm always in danger; it's part of the _job_ … Ow! _Fuck_!”

Jim gives Sebastian a decidedly sulky look for the hard slap across the back of his slim thighs. “That was hardly-”

“ _Don't get smart with me_ ,” Sebastian warns.

Jim glares, but keeps his mouth tightly closed against any 'clever' comments about his own superior intelligence.

Sebastian glowers right back, and only Severin's cleared throat makes the couple break gaze.

Mary is standing warily in the door frame with John at her side. “Moriarty,” John growls.

Jim crosses his arms and gives the older man a haughty look, like the brunet didn't just get his legs painfully smacked from his sniper. “Watson?” Jim arches a brow.

“Mary says she no longer works for you,” John says.

“That's correct,” Jim drawls. He smirks. “Didn't you believe her? That's bad for a marriage you know: distrust.”

Sebastian leans very close and whispers, “Perhaps you'd better start being truthful with me then, Kitten...”

Jim freezes and actually half turns away from John. “Really, Tiger? That's a conversation you want to have _now?_ ”

Sebastian merely gives him an amused look. “Pain in the ass when people just do their own thing, isn't it?”

Jim glowers.

John clears his throat. “Are we interrupting something?” he snaps.

“Yes,” Jim bites.

“No,” Sebastian smiles. “Go ahead, Watson.”

John looks sour. “Mary informed me that she still values your friendship, although she has given up on her earlier career.”

Jim's lips twitch and he throws Mary an amused look. “Darling, you're sweet.”

“Don't bait my husband, Jim,” Mary sighs.

He gives her a playfully shocked look which disappears pretty quickly as Sebastian squeezes his shoulder in warning. “Oh, none of you are any _fun_ ,” Jim huffs.

Severin's lips twitch and he exchanges an amused look with Molly. “Are you sure about that?”

Jim turns around and gives a wicked grin. “Remind me you earned that raise.”

Severin grins. “Of course Boss.”

John throws a wary glance between Moriarty's second in command, and the similar-looking blond boyfriend of Hooper's. He sighs. “Molly, you're not...”

“Yes, I am,” she says brightly, a little bite behind her tone. “Now instead of judging each other, why don't we sit down, order some food, and get to know each other without prejudices?”

“A distaste for murderers is hardly bigotry,” John protests.

“Is that so, soldier?” Mary murmurs bravely.

He gives her an exasperated look, but then presses his lips together and nods. “Fine. I'll join this madness.”

Mary pecks his cheek. “Thank you dear.”

John makes to sit down, only to pull back in surprise with a reddened hand and a hiss.

“Toby!” Molly scolds. Then she frowns. “Where did you even _come_ from?”

“Pass him here,” says Jim, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice in case it prompts Molly or Sebastian to slap him. Molly does so, and Toby accepts the transfer cheerfully.

“Oh, I've got a cat,” Richard murmurs fondly. He steps closer to his brother to greet Toby and Jim turns closer without remembering that he's supposed to be cross.

Toby looks with confusion between Jim and Richard, and Jim gets a horrible feeling that the loyal cat is about to leap from his arms to the 'nicer' twin. Instead Toby bats Richard closer, until the brothers are pressed against each other, and rolls about their arms ecstatically. _Two_ Jims.

Molly bites her lip, exchanging a grin with Sebastian.

Severin sweeps up the phone trying to give Mary's husband a reassuring look. “So,” he says brightly, “what's everyone having?”

“A psychotic break,” John mutters. Mary frowns and prods him in the arm.


	26. Chapter 26

“Mary, must we?” John mutters for what feels like the hundredth time since they have left their home.

By this point Mary has stopped speaking in response. She squeezes her husband's arm pointedly and arches one brow.

John sighs and reaches up to the buzzer. “I can't believe you talked me into this.”

“It's been over a year, love; I can't believe that you still _need_ me to talk you into this,” Mary snips.

John looks around quickly and his expression softens. “Sorry. I don't… I don't _hate_ this.”

Mary nods and leans forwards to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

John squeezes his wife's arm to him and tries to ignore the knowing look in her eyes. She's kind enough not to mention it, but it embarrasses him that she knows he doesn't hate these get togethers quite as much as he claims to.

The door swings open to reveal a wickedly grinning Jim Moriarty.

“Johnny Boy, glad you could make it!” he enthuses, taking John's face in his hands before the older man can protest, and pressing an annoying kiss on John's face.

Correction: there are some things John still hates about these damn get togethers.

Jim darts away before John can punch him and kisses Mary's cheek with far more respect. “Let me take your coat, beautiful.”

Mary arches her brow as she undoes buttons. “Do I need to tell Sebastian that you're kissing my husband?”

Jim's smirk shrinks as though he's a little boy whose babysitter has just promised to tattle to his parents.

John feels a little better and slides off his own coat.

“I'm going back into business,” Jim grumbles, taking both coats and a pair of scarves. “None of you are frightened of me any more.”

Mary smirks, following Jim down the hall. “Was Sebastian ever really scared of you, shorty?”

John closes the door as Jim hangs up the cold outerwear and protests, “Of course he was!”

Sebastian appears and pulls Jim to his chest. “Didn't I tell you that you could only answer the door to them if you were good?”

“I have been good!” Jim protests indignantly.

“Now why don't I believe that?” Sebastian asks with a fond, stern look. He glances up at the visitors. “Does my husband need his ears boxed?”

“No more than usual,” John answers. “Drink?”

Sebastian laughs, cuffing Jim lightly, and pulls John by the shoulder of a ridiculous jumper into the kitchen for refreshments. John doesn't like to admit it sober, but he's gotten fond of the Moran brothers. He tells himself that it's a military camaraderie thing, but they have similarities outwith that. For example, navigating Sherlock and Mary is almost as tiring as herding Jim.

Mary puts an arm around the brunet. “I thought that you were enjoying the new venture.”

Jim makes a face. “I am, but there's a lot less killing.”

“Takes a bit of getting used to, doesn't it?” Mary sympathises.

“What do you _do_ when you need to express some frustration?” Jim sighs. “It's awful.”

Mary purses her lips playfully. “Sebastian couldn't give you any suggestions?”

Jim gives her a look. “That may be helping, but it's not the same as _killing someone_.”

“Jimmy, suck it up and accept you've retired,” Molly announces as the pair enter the living room.

Jim pouts. “But it's so _dreadful_.”

“So's your taste in music. And TV shows. But we still live with you,” Severin calls from across the room.

“My taste is superb,” Jim sniffs. He glares when the Morans and Watson exchange amused looks with each other.

“Oh never mind them,” Mary says, “they're only telling the truth.”

Jim huffs, but throws himself on the couch and holds out a hand for the wine glass Molly offers. She brushes a hand over his dark hair and he smiles softly, glancing up at her.

Molly returns his fond look and hands Mary a glass. The blonde accepts it with a grateful smile and reaches over to tug a cardigan sleeve out of Richard's mouth. 

He looks up, startled, and then smiles. “Oh, hi.”

“Miles away?” Mary asks.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “How are you and John?”

“We're good. Jim told me the other day you got a callback for that last audition. How'd that go?”

Richard grins. “It went great. I… I got it.”

Mary ruffles his hair. “That's fantastic! I knew you were brilliant.”

Richard giggles shyly. “I'm… I'm pretty pleased, to be honest.”

Mary kisses his head, keeping her wine glass upright. “I'm so proud of you.” She looks up. “Aren't you, Jim?”

Jim actually smiles. It's a lot safer for Richard to develop a presence these days. “Very proud.”

Richard looks surprised for a moment, then beams.

The doorbell goes again.

“I'll get it,” Molly says, stepping past. Jim watches her go.

“Still not used to it yet?” Mary teases.

Jim glances around and chuckles softly. “No. Strange, isn't it?”

“I think it works,” Richard says.

Mary nods. “I like it like this.”

Jim nods thoughtfully and takes a mouthful of red wine. “It holds a certain charm.”

“But?” Mary smirks.

Jim makes a face. “I love it being the five of us but I miss only having Sebastian to answer to. They gang up on me.”

“You ever thought that might be good for you?” Mary teases.

He gives her a mildly sour look. “I liked being in charge.”

“Yeah, but we hated your tantrums,” Richard snorts.

Jim gives him an appalled look. “I do not appreciate your growth in confidence.”

Richard smiles a little. “That's okay: if you get mean I'll just tell Molly.”

Mary laughs at Jim's disgusted look.

“I'm definitely going back to work,” Jim mutters.

“You always say that.”

Jim sighs and looks around as Molly leads Artemis and Butler into the room. “I do, and yet they never believe me. Your venture's ruined me, Fowl.”

“Or been the making of you,” Butler teases.

Jim grimaces. “I'm beginning to forget what death smells like.”

Artemis spreads his palms. “Is helping save the human race really so bad?”

Jim makes a face. “I used to be feared.”

Butler's expression twitches. “I know how you feel.”

“Does it get better?” Jim asks as Molly drops down beside him.

Artemis takes a seat and Butler joins him. “Not really, but you're saving a lot of lives,” the bodyguard says.

“I miss explosions,” Jim huffs.

Artemis arches a brow, at which he points with a pale finger. “These have only just grown back from the last one.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “Well with all those brains if you didn't see _that_ coming...”

“I was occupied trying not to get killed by fairy rebels,” Artemis protests.

“And I was still suffering from a mind wipe the first time I faced those rebels and did I lose _my_ facial hair in a blast? _No_ ,” Jim retorts. He considers. “Although the way you avoided dying afterwards, that was clever.”

Artemis gives a wry smirk. “Glad I can amuse you.”

“Gone straight for you, haven't I?” Jim says before taking another sip.

“Have you?” Artemis says archly.

Molly gives Jim a look that has him shrinking in his seat. “Molly, love, there's no need to look at me like that...” the brunet says in a high voice.

She crosses her arms. “Sebastian, your husband's been misbehaving again...”

The blond peers through from the kitchen. “In what way is that new?”

Molly notices Fowl is giving her a slightly embarrassed look, as he seems to do whenever she scolds Jim. She is yet to determine why. “So what's His Highness done this time?” she asks Artemis.

The young man purses his lips and gives Jim a questioning look.

“Fine, have the others,” Jim grumbles.

“The others?” Molly questions darkly.

Jim squirms in a way that forces Mary to cover her mouth in amusement. “I said he could have them, didn't I?”

“Have what?” Molly asks.

The brunet looks away, frowning uncomfortably.

“Jim Moriarty...” Molly warns.

He sighs. Licking his lips nervously, he runs a small hand through his hair and mutters, “Some paintings.”

Mary understands immediately. “Some Pascal Hervé paintings, that you're supposed to be finding and returning?”

“JIM!” Molly shouts.

“It's difficult being good, okay?” Jim Moriarty, former criminal kingpin and genius, whines childishly.

Sebastian sighs and pauses the card game he is playing with Rinn and John. “Kitten, why is Molls using her cross mummy voice?”

Jim looks sulky. “Why does everyone treat me like a child?”

Sebastian gets up and crosses over to his husband, making the smaller man cringe. “Probably because if we let you do your own thing it's just handing you rope to hang yourself with.”

“I'm smarter than any of you,” Jim mutters, but he doesn't look up challengingly, because Sebastian is _bigger_.

“Almost any,” Artemis says.

Jim scoffs a little bitterly. “You just dropped me in it; you think you're going to survive my revenge?”

Artemis pales a little. Butler laughs, trusting his charge won't come to any real danger, but perhaps be put down a few pegs.

Sebastian clears his throat pointedly.

Jim looks up reluctantly.

“ _What_ am I going to do with you, you utter brat?” the blond glowers.

Jim swallows. “Laugh at what a charming rascal I am and forgive me?”

Sebastian gives a bark of cool laughter. Jim wilts a little.

Richard lets out a snort of laughter that he quickly stifles. Jim whirls around with a glare.

“I'm sorry,” Richard mumbles, “it's just… no matter how many times I see it, it's still so _strange_ seeing you hand over control to anyone.”

Jim bristles. “They're not just anyone,” he says awkwardly.

Richard's cat dashes past chased by Toby.

“I know,” Richard says.

“You can't really blame him,” John says, appearing from the kitchen with Severin. The others look around in surprise. Mary smirks, giving her husband an amused, approving smile.

John swallows, wondering why he's opened his mouth. “It takes a lot of effort to change from where Jim was to where he is now. You might not be giving him enough credit.”

Molly puts a hand on her hip. “Those paintings are linked to an entire cult of Koboi's sympathisers and Jimmy here has been hoarding the remainders. How are we supposed to be okay with that?”

“Every fairy tale needs a good old Byronic hero,” Jim says. “Johnny's right that I deserve some credit: I saved The People from a war and the human race from extinction.”

John snorts. “That might be a slight overexaggeration, but if you're bored and need to do anything criminal, I'd appreciate it if you could involve Sherlock. He's going nuts with confusion and boredom since you just packed up your empire and disappeared.”

Jim smirks. “You could always tell him the truth. Leaving out the bit about fairies of course.”

“Definitely leaving out the bit about fairies,” Artemis agrees.

Severin curls his arms around Molly and grins. “Deep breaths. Think how easy raising kids will be after Jim.”

Molly laughs softly whilst Jim scowls. Sebastian flops down on the couch and pulls the short brunet into his lap. “She has a point.”

“You have your hands full with me,” Jim grumbles. “You don't need kids.”

Sebastian grins and kisses Jim's temple. “If you say so, Daddy.”

A knock at the door startles the group. 

Mary curses, looking at her husband. He groans.

“What?” Butler asks.

“That's Sherlock's knock,” Molly says.

“Well it was about time he joined the party,” Jim says brightly.


End file.
